


Causal Fallacy

by maggiemerc



Series: Statements of Causality [2]
Category: Grey's Anatomy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, F/F, F/M, Femslash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-27
Updated: 2013-10-12
Packaged: 2017-11-10 20:31:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 20
Words: 105,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/470398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maggiemerc/pseuds/maggiemerc
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes there is no link between cause and effect. Sometimes it is just the natural world bearing down on you and devastating everything in its path. A sequel to the Alternate Universe episode, “If/Then” and Another Statement of Causality. Callie and Arizona are at a loss with how to make a relationship work with three kids and Cristina and Owen are blindly moving forward damned the costs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The sequel to Another Statement of Causality! Are you excited? I’m excited. Feedback is much appreciated even if it’s to tell me I’m a monster.

It wasn’t often that Mark had his act together while everyone else floundered. Derek was still with Meredith but they hadn’t told her parents yet. Arizona was running from Callie like she’d proposed marriage and Mark had his daughter in his arms, a stable job, a stable fiancee and a home that wasn’t known to half the female population of New York.

And unlike Owen Hunt he also had a functioning car.

“Car trouble?” Owen leapt at Mark’s voice. His head thumped against the hood of his car and Mark winced in sympathy. “Sorry.”

“My truck is—“

Ancient. Owen’s truck was older than some of the residents. His three children were standing beside the beast looking two steps away from rebellion. One of the boys was kicking the tires and the other one had found a broomstick handle in the bed of the truck and was swinging it over his head like a little king of the mountain. Eyeing the stick warily and holding his own daughter’s head protectively Mark stepped around the kid and poked his head under the hood.

“You know a lot about cars,” Owen asked.

“Nothing.” He stood back up, “I have a very well paid mechanic though. I can call him for you?”

Owen shook his head. He pointed at something that probably meant something to someone else. “It’s probably my fuel pump. It’s been sluggish lately. I can fix it but I have to go pick the part up.”

“Callie going to drive you?”

“Boise.”

Oh right. With Addison and Arizona and Hahn? That must have been fun.

“How about Yang. You two are bumpin’ uglies right?”

Owen frowned, “She’s got work and—“ his eyes darted to his kids, who weren’t paying attention. 

“Pft. They’ll be fine. Kids never hear what you say unless you say their names. Watch—“

He quickly interrupted him, “That’s okay. You know, you could always give us a ride.”

“I could.”

“Is that a yes?”

Mark stepped closer, “Is it?”

He’d never really had one on one time with Owen Hunt. **And** he had a strong opinion about Owen Hunt—largely related to the choking incident and the yelling at Arizona thing. Fucking with the guy was to easy and way too satisfying. Owen squirmed—which wasn’t something an Army trauma surgeon usually did.

“Man, you’re kind of easy to mess with,” he lazily motioned to his temple with his finger, “in the head. Aren’t you Hunt?”

Hunt’s jaw tightened. “And you don’t like me do you Sloan?”

He shrugged, “I’m Robbins’ friend. So I know things about you Hunt. So no. I don’t like you.”

Hunt stared.

Way too easy.

“But I can give you a ride, because I think you’re kids are about to eat each other.”

On cue the one with the stick made sharp connection with his brother’s head and wail of child agony rung in the air.

  


####

It was shock that led to her screaming. She knew that intellectually. She understood her response. Some people cried. Some people turned still. Arizona screamed like there was no tomorrow.

Because the plane. The plane had been in the air. They’d been flying. And then. Then the plane was dropping like a ride at Six Flags. Her stomach was in her mouth and around her the low keen of fear was audible. It flooded the cabin.

And all she could see was the back of Callie’s head as the plane violently rocked. She’d broken up with her because she didn’t want to be a mother. Walked away so Callie could find someone better. Back when time moved forward at a reasonable pace and everyone had their whole lives before them. Back before one engine turned silent and another screamed as it struggled to keep the plane aloft.

Metal tore like flesh from stitches and the air was ripped from her throat. Her hair tangled in a wind fiercer then any a human should sit through. Papers flew. Someone started shouting curse words over and over again. More metal tore and it was like the gods themselves rending the plane apart. 

She saw Derek Shepherd. Saw his eyes. Saw sky.

And so she screamed.

And she didn’t stop.

  


####

“It’s my only day off this week!”

“So come spend it with me and the kids. We’ve got a meatloaf shaped like a rabbit on the menu and possibly an afternoon movie.”

“If I wanted to spend my day off watching movies with three year olds I’d—“

Owen leaned in so close she could taste his cologne. “You’d what,” he asked—equal parts curious and menacing, “Date a single dad?”

“You have an ex-wife who loves babies.”

“I have an ex-wife who’s currently separating babies in Boise.”

Cristina crossed her arms. She wanted to scowl. Callie had gotten the plum job of assisting Hahn on the surgery in Idaho. Cristina had gotten the plum job of having a day off, which her boyfriend wanted her to spend with three children.

“You’ll pick them up at my mom’s. Take them out for breakfast. Bring them here.”

Somehow Owen had missed the part where she said she and kids didn’t mix well.

“We’ll spend the day together and then you can stay over.”

Like a big happy family.

She wanted to reject him. The urge to turn and walk was potent.

But Owen was looking at her now with…earnestness. That wasn’t something she was accustomed to and it he never, ever, looked at her so pleadingly. At least not in this almost playful way he was currently looking at her.

“Are you flirting,” she asked incredulously, her voice colored by humor.

He was, because as soon as she asked the question the playfulness disappeared. “I know you don’t like kids,” he said in all seriousness, “and I’m not asking you to—they have a mom. I just want you to get to know them.”

Because that worked so well for Arizona Robbins, who ended her relationship with Owen’s ex-wife in a great gout of flames. Callie had forced Cristina onto any case that was even remotely Peds related because of it. Lady with heart pains comes in with her perfectly healthy five year old? Cristina was on it.

“It can’t be a regular thing though. Okay? My days off are usually spent eating dry cereal and avoiding calls from my mother.”

“What about when you—“

“Were with Burke? The same. Well,” she amended, “avoiding his mother too.”

“Thank you,” he said with a smile.

She was nuts, and she said as much to Mer’s voicemail afterwards. She was crazy doing this. For him. “I’m being very adult Mer, and I don’t like it.” 

But periodic lunch dates with small children wasn’t that bad was it? It wasn’t like Mer and Callie were going to be in Boise doing surgery on twins with a whole team of doctors every day Cristina had off. Just the one day.

  


####

Black Eyed Peas was playing in her head. On loop. Why was Black Eyed Peas playing in her head? On loop. She didn’t even **like** Black Eyed Peas.

Allegra liked Black Eyed Peas. She also liked to eat black eyed peas.

“They’re for luck.” That was a tradition enforced by Owen. Something picked up from his own father. Every New Years. Last year was trying though. Allegra had developed a moral stance against black eyed peas. The boys joined in the rebellion and she and Owen were stuck eating black eyed peas for a week. On salads. In a bowl with corn bread on the side. With pork chops. And fish. And hamburgers. Never had she had so many legumes in her life.

And what a life. She’d glanced at Arizona and Arizona hadn’t glanced back. She’d stared. Openly. She might have even offered her her seat but she’d chosen the one all on its own in her row. So Callie had sat in front of her.

“You’re going to regret this, and I can’t promise I’ll be waiting when you do.” She’d whispered it at the door and Arizona had disappeared into the night and they’d danced around each other at work. An easy dance. A familiar one…to an extent. Before their dance of longing had had the allure of the unknown. Now there was a promise in each glance and accidental touch. A siren’s song.

She’d told Arizona she wouldn’t wait. But that was a lie. She was too tired to look for anyone else. And too lost to Arizona. There wasn’t—couldn’t be anyone else. Which was terrifying.

The Black Eyed Peas were rhythmic in their music. Screeching like the engine of a plane. A high pitched whine that was distracting when you were trying to sleep.

Light blinded her as she opened her eyes. Had she drifted off? Taken a nap on a mountain side after going for a hike? When did she go hiking?

Why was the sky so bright? Why were the trees so green?

She tried to sit up. It didn’t work. It hurt. There was metal, shiny in the morning light, in front of her. Railing for the plane stairwell. She reached for it and a low keening noise of pain came from somewhere.

No. From her.

  


  


####

“Hey Meredith? Could you uh…could you give me a call? Something came up and I—I need to talk to someone who isn’t Amelia Shepherd or her brother or Cristina or my boss or…just call me okay?”

She’d said she was doing a surgery in Boise, Idaho. She’d listed the names of all the doctors she was going with. Lexie hadn’t paid attention. Now she wish she had.

Because she’d just slept with Amelia Shepherd and she **really** hadn’t planned that.

Amelia watched her with the languid smoothness of the insufferable. “You’re cute when you’re freaking out.”

She chunked her Doc Martin at Amelia who deftly ducked and caught it. The sheet fell down around her waist and all of her naked torso stood out in the early morning sunlight. A mark. A reminder of what they’d done.

“We **slept** together.”

Amelia just kept grinning, “Yeah, we did.”

“I’m not—you’re not—we’re **straight**.”

Amelia rocked her hips subtly. “My memories of last night say differently.”

“I don’t—we just—would you please freak out!?”

“Why? It’s just sex. Arizona and I used to do it all the time.”

Right. The lesbian roommate who she was banging for a month.

“ **I’m** straight. I don’t know what you are and more power to you and your very fluid approach to life but what we just did could get us arrested in Texas!” That last part came out a harsh whisper.

She waved her hand, “Ten years ago and even then I don’t think it counts if its just fingers.”

She chunked her other shoe at her. “Be serious.”

Amelia scooted close to the edge of the bed, the sheets still around her waist. “I liked what we did. And I thought it was natural and awesome and unexpected. So I’m not gonna freak out.”

Lexie came closer and peered into Amelia’s eyes. “Are you high? Are you on—“

Amelia snaked her hand around Lexie’s waist and pulled her down into a kiss. It was…different. “I’m sober Lexie. I wouldn’t have done this otherwise.”

She **was** sober. There was no taste of alcohol on her lips. No fuzzy look in her eyes. It was Amelia. Her sweet and sardonic friend. Her AA buddy. And even though she was a cool customer Lexie just couldn’t be.

“I should go.”

“I’ll be here.”

It was a loaded promise.

  


####

Addison stumbled out of the smoke and fog. She tripped and caught herself against the fuselage. Callie called out and her eyes, glazed with shock, found her.

Someone else moaned and Callie laid herself as flat as possibly to see past bits of the plane. It was Meredith. She sat up with a grunt.

“What happened?”

Addison looked up at the sky. Her mouth fell open in awe.

“We crashed,” Callie called out. She was terrified of sitting up. Terrified to look at her leg. She could feel it. Every nerve. Every tendon. Every muscle. She could feel the air move across it like acid on her skin. In there in her bone she could feel the crash again and again. Could hear the crunch of shattering bone. 

“Where’s Derek?”

Addison lazily blinked.

Meredith screamed Derek’s name. But only the drone of the dying engine responded.

Callie needed to get up. The pain was causing adrenaline to rush into her system and making her almost hyper aware of her surroundings. It was like that very first big surgery. Everything coming into focus. She could see the leaves on the trees and hear the birds above the noise of the engine and off in the distance she could hear the rhythmic beat of metal against metal.

“What is that,” Meredith asked, still dazed. She called for Derek again.

Callie closed her eyes and tried to see what had happened. Tried to remember the events of the night. Of the crash. But there was only darkness in her mind. Sensations. Fear. Arizona’s cry.

Arizona. She was on the plane. They’d shared a look and Callie had found herself confused by hatred and love and need. Before the world fell apart.

Addison collapsed onto her rear and rubbed at tears that leaked from her eyes. “I don’t…” she then rubbed absently at her chest.

Meredith called for Derek again. In the silence that followed they heard more noise. Someone stirred in the fuselage, and somewhere, far away, metal continued to beat against metal.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Are you still here? You haven’t run away to never return or disappeared into your basement to sharpen a hatchet? Good!

She couldn’t breathe. Not because of her injuries. She just… She couldn’t figure out a way to form words. She wanted to scream and keep screaming until everything returned to normal but her body was moving. She tried to push herself up and her arm collapsed under her weight.

A ragged sob was torn from her lips. She closed her eyes and tried to will the pain away but the sobs were coming to the forefront. So she just rested her head on the cabin floor.

She buried the fingers of her good hand in the carpet…or tried to. The carpet wasn’t terribly plush and there was debris in it. Bits of dirt and leaves. Someone’s purse had struck the seat in front of her violently and the cracked screen of a phone stared back at her, a no signal sign blinking up in the corner.

All alone.

She tried to suck back the sobs as she took in her surroundings.

She was still in the plane.

And she was the only one.

Very much alone.

The sobs turned to laughter—manic laughter. Of course. Of course the plane would plummet from the sky. It would tear apart and scatter its contents across a mountain and of course Arizona would be the only one left.

“DEREK!”

The cries clung to her throat. Meredith. Meredith was alive. She could now hear other voices too. She gripped the seat closest to her with her good hand and pulled herself up with a noise that fell somewhere between the screams women always unleashed in slasher films and the groans the dead unleashed in war films.

Her arm protested and judging by the way it didn’t respond to anything she tried to do she suspected it was dislocated. She needed to get out of the plane. Needed to follow the voices. She needed to find her.

Callie. 

She needed to find Callie.

Callie could still be alive.

 

####

The storm came in off the Pacific fast. Bright blue skies turned dark in an instant and thunder, not actually common in Seattle, rumbled through the streets. For Cristina it meant her original plan to read journals at the park while Owen’s kids made themselves sick on the jungle gym was a no go. She walked up the steps to his mother’s house with no clue what she was going to do.

His mother opened the door before she had a chance to knock. “So you’re the girlfriend.”

“Mrs. Hunt—“

She held up a hand, “Save it. Owen’s split with Callie was amicable. I’m not going to call you a slut, harlot or hussy. Maybe a little frigid though. You’ve been dating my son for over a month and you couldn’t find the time to come over here and introduce yourself?”

“No?” What was she supposed to say?

Mrs. Hunt opened the door wider. “Come on in before that storm bites you in the ass.”

The inside of the house was absurdly cozy. The kids were all around an older television watching cartoons. Allegra and one of the twins were still in their pajamas. The third one was start naked except for the towel he’d carefully laid out as a mat to sit on.

Owen’s mother read her mind, “Gavin’s going through a no pants stage and trying to enforce it by putting all of his clothes in the toilet. Then using it.”

Repulsive. 

 

####

The beating of metal against metal was the pied piper and Meredith and Addison were the children of Hamlin helplessly called to its song. Callie watched their backs disappear over the hill and tried again to pull herself up. Maybe she could craft a crutch. Follow. Find Arizona.

She tried to sit up again and fought the urge to vomit from the pain. She tensed her abdominal muscles, hyperventilated and reached again for the rail. Grasping it tightly she pulled herself up into a sitting position and screamed in pain.

Noise from the wrecked fuselage drew her attention.

Arizona stumbled out of the wreckage holding her arm. She was barefoot and dazed and blood trickled from a cut at her hairline. But her eyes were bright when she saw Callie. She lurched towards her. Stumbled as twigs and rocks bit into her feet, but finally she collapsed to her knees next to Callie and reached up to touch her face.

Her hand come away spotted with blood. 

“Are you okay?”

Callie nodded. Her face was raw and she could feel the wind on it but it hadn’t begun to hurt yet. “I’m,” she swallowed, “I think I’m fine. My leg is messed up. But Addison and Meredith just wandered off and Erica and Derek are missing.” She lowered her voice, “They weren’t in any shape to be moving either.”

They were in a plane crash. An actual plane crash. She read about plane crashes. They had a habit of taking famous musicians. Divorced bisexual doctors weren’t in plane crashes.

Arizona absorbed what she’d said. Looked down at Callie’s leg. “You’re bleeding.”

Callie touched Arizona’s limp arm and the other woman flinched. “It’s dislocated. I could set it—“

“No, you need to stay still. I’ll,” she ducked her head as she tried to gather herself, “I’ll see if I can find the others and then we’ll fix you’re leg and get out of here and get you home in time to put the kids to sleep.”

Callie would have felt much more comfortable with that plan if Arizona didn’t start laughing to herself. “Arizona?”

She fell backwards onto her ass and continued laughing. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. It’s just—Callie we can’t even talk to each other and now we’re in a plane crash together.”

Callie frowned.

“I think I’m in,” she hiccuped, “shock.” She glanced back down at Callie’s leg and it seemed to sober her a little bit. “I should go help the others.” Streaks of tears had cleared tracks through the soot on her face and when she wiped at them it only made the smudges of soot worse.

Callie swallowed again because it seemed to help a little with the pain. When Arizona was out of sight she’d probably go into very and unflattering lamaze breathing to handle it. “Okay.”

Arizona started to stand again—awkward with one hand—then spontaneously she leaned in and kissed Callie on the lips. There was the tang of blood in the kiss. A reminder of what was happening when her eyes closed. “I’ll be back.”

She stood. Stumbled. Then followed the patch blazed by a plane careening through a forest. Overhead the clouds were darkening slowly. Callie prayed the rumble she heard was shock making things worse and not a storm.

Now alone again, but feeling a little stronger then before she’d seen Arizona stumble out of the wreckage Callie regarded her leg. She had to be calm. The other three were in various degrees of shock, with Arizona being the most able minded, which left Callie as the sole survivor thus far that hadn’t completely cracked.

Well mentally.

There was a big wet patch on her pants. Blood seeping through the fabric and darkening it to something between purple and black. Taking a few fortifying breaths just like they’d taught her to handle pushing babies out of tiny holes she worried a small rip near the site of the injury and then pulled. The fabric tore as quick as a bandaid being pulled and revealed her leg.

The acrid taste of vomit burned her throat.

Her bone was protruding up through the skin above her knee and vibrant pink marrow encompassed in bright white bone glistened. The flesh around the injury was oozing and torn and…

Oh God she was going to throw up. She leaned back against the plane stairs and tried not to hyperventilate.

“H—hello?”

The voice, a man’s she didn’t recognize, came from the front of the plane. She looked up and saw a bloody hand bracing against the window frame.

“Is anyone there?”

She was. She was alive still. Reminded by her throbbing leg that looked less human with every passing moment. “I’m here!”

He started to jostle in the cockpit and struggled to get out of his seat. She called to him again. Asked for a name. Jerry. He was the one that had sent them cascading into a free fall of pain and death.

“Don’t move,” She told him. He could have hurt himself in the crash and he wasn’t a doctor. He couldn’t assess his injuries like she could or Arizona. He could have a head injury. A spinal injury. He could be in shock and bleeding into his chest. The possibilities were endless and she was stuck on the ground staring at her bone.

She explained why he couldn’t move. Then ran him through the checklist she kept in her head. “I can’t feel my legs,” he said.

Callie closed her eyes and ignored her own leg, which continued to remind her of its existence with a throbbing pain unlike any she’d ever known. She could hear the bone grate against bone and the veins ooze sluggish blood from her body. It was a horror film and she’d been thrust into the starring role.

“That’s not good Jerry.”

He was quiet.

“The others will be back soon. We’ve got a neurosurgeon. He’s the best in the country.”

“He can fix me?” How dare he have hope while her leg stayed attached to her body by a few delicate muscles.

“Just stay still Jerry.” Distantly she heard Meredith still calling out for Derek. “Help is on the way.”

 

####

Mark stared at his phone. He wasn’t going to worry—because he wasn’t a hysterical kind of guy—but he’d expected some kind of call from Addison or Arizona. Maybe his fiancee calling to check on their daughter. Or his friend calling to moan about how she couldn’t possibly manage being in the same OR as Callie for eight hours.

But there was nothing.

He hit send and it went straight to Robbins’ voicemail. “Yo, Robbins, just calling you because it wouldn’t be manly to call Addison to check up. Hope Boise isn’t as boring as it sounds. Call me when you’re on your way back so I know when to put pants on. Because seeing as I have my apartment to myself my pants have disappeared.”

He could see Arizona rolling her eyes.

He hit end on the call and buried deep the funny sense of unease he really shouldn’t be feeling.

 

####

She found Addison and Meredith crowding around the tail of the plane. Meredith was already standing up and looking around again but Addison was slower to move. Clutching her arm to keep it stabilized Arizona navigated the path to them and ignored the biting sensation in her feet.

She missed shoes. Shoes were nice.

They saw her and Meredith blinked. “Have you seen Derek?”

She shook her head. If Meredith was asking that then it meant—she leaned against the tail and came face to face with Erica Hahn. Blood, bright like paint, was seeping from her mouth and had spattered across the forest floor. She was breathing quickly but she was alert. Comepletely aware.

Which was more than she could say for Meredith or Addison, or even herself for that matter.

Addison distractedly gave Arizona a run down on what stats she could acquire with only her fingers. She looked to Erica who confirmed.

“We need to find Derek,” Meredith insisted.

“She’s—she’s right,” Addison said. Her voice was raspy and yet…heavy.

“Are you okay?”

She nodded but her words came out in a rush in between great sucking breaths of air. “We’ll find Derek…and come back…fluids. We’ll bring fluids and I think there was oxygen on the plane. We’ll find that. Is Callie okay? Where is she?”

Erica didn’t comment. Arizona didn’t either. Addison didn’t press them. She turned to follow Meredith who was drifting away.

Derek Shepherd’s lovers, past and present, moved further into the forest calling his name and leaving Arizona alone with her own almost lover.

Erica exhaled slowly. “This is **not** what I had in mind for my day.”

Again laughter bubbled at of Arizona. She’d never realized it before. All the times she’d laughed and cried. She’d never seen the thin line the separated one from the other. Not until the morning in the forest beside the plane killing her friend.

 

####

Through her many conversations with her therapist it was suggested to Lexie (though the therapist insisted he wasn’t saying that) that she had a self destructive streak a mile wide due to the early death of her mother, her alcoholic father and the specter of a half-sister hovering over her head since childhood.

Apparently she loathed herself so much she sought solace and eventual death in drugs, alcohol and lots of ill advised sex.

“Hey Meredith, this is call number three. I know, like, you’re busy cutting up babies and making eyes at McDreary but I really need to talk to you. You’re my… Well you’re my sister and you’re really kind of my only friend. At least that I can talk to about this. And would you just…would you turn your phone on and maybe return my call?”

A suspicious nurse had shown Lexie how to using the paging system and she’d paged Meredith urgent as well but it hadn’t worked. Which was messed up. What if she was relapsing—drug wise? What if Cristina was dying and she was trying to get a hold of her? Or her mother was shooting up the hospital because she’d had enough of the drama?

Avery and Meredith’s ex-fiancee rounded the corner and spied her. Avery had been making passes at her since she’d started working in the library. Nothing super skeevy. Just little annoying looks and sweet smiles that the heir to a medical legacy really shouldn’t shoot a messed up drug addict who’d just slept with her best friend.

“What do you two want,” she scowled because Karev was also smiling and had his glasses down low on his nose in what she knew was his “flirting” look. Not that it actually worked since he’d started openly dating Kepner.

“You have access to the medical records office right?”

“I hope so. I had to sit through a shit ton of HIPAA training.”

The two men shared a look over her head. Avery leaned on the counter on one side of her and Karev mirrored his position on the other. 

“So,’ Avery said, batting his eyes like she was one of their interns, “if we gave you a list of cases we needed—“

“You could get them right,” Alex finished the question.

She looked from one guy to the other. “Are you two badly flirting with me to get me to violate an act of **Congress**?”

Karev shrugged an affirmative and Avery bit his lip, “Yeah. Yeah we are.”

“You’re disgusting. And also stupid. I only have this job because my sister and I share a sperm donor. Why would I risk it for you?”

Karev looked smug, “Because we’re…nice.”

“You cheated on my sister with her best friend and forced her to move into a house with me and Cristina Yang. Kind of the opposite of nice Karev.”

Avery tugged on her elbow. He was really working a puppy dog look that might have worked on her in another life. “We need them for our boards.”

Lexie rolled her eyes. The stupid freakin’ boards. They were all obsessed with them. Meredith and Yang had turned a wall in the living room into their giant post it studying board and when not making out with their bosses/boyfriends they spent their time in there loudly quizzing each other and giving her the evil eye if she interrupted.

The boards were why Meredith was even in the middle of nowhere Idaho. Hahn had pushed the surgery up a month and a half because she didn’t want Meredith “getting stupid and board crazy in the OR.”

“You’re always stupid and board crazy,” Cristina had countered when Meredith told them the story.

Meredith had shrugged and stabbed at the chicken Lexie had made. “Mom signed off on it and said it would end up helping me in the long run.”

Cristina had spoken with finality, “It won’t.”

“That’s just your jealousy talking. Enjoy taking Hahn **and** Callie’s post ops.”

It had quickly devolved into the bickering love fest those two always fell into. 

A love fest that, as far as she knew, never turned into hot and sweaty sex. Hot and sweaty and great sex. Her eidetic memory chose that moment to bring up, in vivid details, the memory of Amelia kissing down her body with a cocky smile on her lips. She shuddered.

Stupid Amelia. Stupid Meredith. Stupid boys with their stupid boards.

“Find someone else to steal your files.”

“Dude,” Karev protested.

That familiar itch took hold of Lexie. Between Karev and Avery and her sister being MIA and that memory of Amelia’s tongue doing amazing things— 

She shoved her phone into her pocket, flipped them the bird as a parting gift and rushed down the hall. She found Amelia in the library sucking on a Twizzler reading a journal with her feet propped up on the table. She was oblivious to the stink eye Lexie’s boss, Phyllis, was giving her from the main desk. 

Lexie yanked the journal out of Amelia’s hands and dragged her through the stacks and back into the holistic medicine section. Seattle Grace being a major research hospital full of eggheads no one ever went there. She shoved Amelia against the bookshelf and then kissed her hard. It shouldn’t have felt as perfect as it did.

Amelia pushed her back. “I thought you weren’t gay.”

“I’m freaking out and really want to snort or drink something I shouldn’t because of you Amelia.” She was shivering almost like she was detoxing all over again. “The least you can do is—“ Amelia didn’t let her finish the sentence.

Her lips on Lexie’s throat and her hands under her shirt were like a shot of whiskey chased by a line of coke. She shuddered in relief. 

 

####

Ellis Grey was known to have a vicious temper but she rarely unloaded on the hospital staff. Owen frowned as he watched her berate her administrative assistant, a woman she usually was incredibly polite to.

Like a ghost Sloan appeared beside him loudly biting into an apple. “She looks pissed.”

“Thought you had the day off.”

He jostled his daughter in her carrier. “I got bored.” Back to the fight they were watching. “Must have forgotten to pick up the dry cleaning.”

“Get them on the phone now,” she said. Her voice threatening to rise to a shout. A frantic shout.

“I don’t think so,” Owen said.

Richard jogged past them and grabbed his wife. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

She pushed him away, but at the last moment reached out and took his hand. For comfort it seemed. 

Involuntarily Owen moved closer and felt something at the back of his head. A feeling like that moment just before the gunfire started.

“Their plane didn’t land.”

To note this news a peal of thunder seemed to shake the hospital. The storm that had blown in off the ocean was surprisingly vicious. 

There was only one plane it could be. The one with Grey’s daughter. The one with Owen’s ex-wife. Mark stopped crunching his apple. His fiancee and his best friend were on that plane.

“Boise has no idea where they are. The FAA can’t find them. We have to contact State Patrol. Washington and Idaho. Canada. If they were taken off course they could be in Canada. Or Oregon.” Ellis was doing the closest thing to ranting that she’d ever do. Her words came out in a flood but there was a focus to them.

Owen came closer. “Dr. Grey?”

With one look she confirmed everything. She wasn’t irritated or distracted by Owen’s interruption. She looked at him with pity and…camaraderie. Suddenly they were in something together.

“Where’s my wife?”

 

####

“We need to get this off of you.”

“My pelvis is crushed Robbins. I can’t feel one arm. My heart feels like it’s the size of a football.”

“But with fluids and—we’ve got supplies.”

“Even if this was the floor of the OR and we were surrounded by Grey, Webber and the best nurses on staff it’d be impossible.”

“We’re surgeons. Nothings—“

“I’m dying Robbins. I’m stuck out in the woods with you and a bunch of people I hate and I’m dying.”

Arizona tried to be matter of fact about death. She was used to it and familiar with it. And in the eyes of terminally ill six year olds she’d seen a wisdom people ten times their age couldn’t posses. There was a resolve in the dying. A serenity that overcame them when the end came so close they could touch it.

Erica Hahn was smug—brazen even crushed beneath a plane. She was always calm in the OR. A fascinating blend of self-criticalness that should have been debilitating and confidence that bordered on hubris. Dying she was just as calm. Diagnosing her own death came as easy to her as a heart transplant.

Arizona decided to lie beside Erica. It seemed only right.

“What do you want me to say to her?” She was thinking of the girlfriend Erica had broken up with when she’d discovered Arizona had been with her. Their one abortive date had revolved around Erica talking about her effusively. She’d left her, but no forgotten her.

“Why do you think I’d want you to tell her anything?”

“Because I’ll be there,” she couldn’t quite say funeral, “and she’s going to ask me. So what do I say?”

“Tell her,” Erica closed her eyes as a wave of pain took her. Her eyes were growing brighter even as her skin turned more pallid. “Tell her I was a jerk. Tell her I was awful and stupid. Tell her she was the glasses.” She smiled. Hahn rarely smiled but when she did she could have lit up the world. “She’ll know what it means.”

Arizona took Erica’s hand in her own. It was clammy and cool to the touch. She squeezed. “I’m sorry.”

“You’re an idiot Robbins. Like all of them at that hospital.”

Arizona smiled.

Erica found enough strength to grip Arizona’s hand tighter. “Don’t be me,” she whispered. Maybe not because her body was shutting down. Organ by organ. There was a dark sense of honesty in her plea. “Don’t be lying under a plane living a life of regrets.”

“Erica.” She turned to look at her. She tried to be emphatic. If this was it. If there was nothing beyond this moment then she had to do her best and make it—she had to provide Erica Hahn comfort. “You are amazing. Breathtaking.”

“I’m dying because a plane fell on me Arizona. The back of the plane is statistically the safest place on the plane but I’m dying. The last thing I said to the woman I love was “Go fuck yourself.” There was more blood on her lips. “And that bastard Burke won the Harper Avery before me.” She looked seriously at Arizona. “Don’t be me.”

“I won’t.”

“Tell her she was the last thing I thought about. Tell her it was my fault. Tell her I was lazy and stupid and emotionally distant and tell her—“

But there was nothing more to say. Her words disappeared as the stillness took hold. Her death wasn’t violent, gory or painful. She didn’t shudder in fear. She didn’t even look afraid. 

Passionate to the end and then suddenly peaceful. 

The world had been shattered, but in the ruins Erica found grace.

 


	3. Chapter 3

It must have taken an hour to find enough stones. She moved in a daze, collecting them in Erica’s coat and dragging them back to her. She knelt next to the body and carefully laid the stones on her one by one. 

She couldn’t bury her, but she could protect her. She could keep away the monsters of the woods and give her some peace. A little dignity.

When the last stone had been placed and Erica was nothing more than a pile of rocks beneath the wreckage of the plane Arizona allowed herself a few ragged sobs. She didn’t want to cry in front of the others. They were stuck in the middle of nowhere, most of them injured and there was no sign of help.

And Erica was dead.

Arizona had to collect herself. Pull it all together and be calm. Be a rock so Callie and the others didn’t have to.

Callie…she was hurt and her leg injury must have been bad enough because Arizona hadn’t heard her moving through the forest. If something happened to Callie. If she somehow didn’t—

She couldn’t think that way. Not yet. She needed to be calm. Confident.

She leaned against the remains of the plane and watched the sky. What had started out bright and blue had turned dark in the last hour. White clouds with bases so grey they were nearly black were rolling in from the west and ahead of them ran a fresh new chill of air.

Rain was in the wind.

 

####

Ellis accepted whatever news was on the line with surprising ease. She didn’t argue and Mark suspected it wasn’t because she found the conversation agreeable. The woman was in shock.

They all were. Webber paced behind his wife’s desk and Owen massaged one hand with the other. Mark kept thinking about his daughter and how he’d teased Addison when she’d left. 

And Arizona. They’d fought. Not an earth shattering “this friendship is over” fight. Just about Callie. Because it was always about Callie.

“Who’s asking you to be a parent? Did she say you had to adopt them if you wanted to move in or something?”

“No. But you’ve met her Mark. Ask Addison. She loves her kids. **Loves** them. They’re a package deal and she deserves someone who wants the whole package.”

He blinked. “You know,” he said softly, “you’re a whole package too.”

“I know that,” she quickly countered. “This isn’t—I’m trying to help okay?”

“Really? Banging a woman with kids when you know you won’t ever commit is helping how exactly?”

“I thought you were on my side!”

Mark narrowed his eyes. Took a deep breath. His daughter had squirmed in his arms and her little chubby hands gripped his shirt tightly. “I am.”

“So be on my side.”

But he couldn’t. “Why’d you date her? You’re not a needlessly callous person but what you’re doing now is really, really callous. So what changed?”

Arizona hadn’t responded. Her jaw had set and she’d glared.

“I’m trying to help—“

“No, you aren’t,” she’d argued, “Helping is being supportive.”

“Helping is stopping you from being an idiot. You love her Robbins.”

She’d snapped the towel she’d been drying dishes with down onto the counter. “Not enough!” She braced herself against the sink. Her voice had cracked. “I don’t love her enough.”

He’d walked out because he really hadn’t wanted to watch her willingly embrace a fantasy of nobility and honor. She didn’t love her? Woman was crazy about Torres. Pretending she wasn’t because it was easier than trying to work it out was stupid.

She was stupid.

Ellis put the phone back on the receiver.

She was officious and abrupt. “We know so far that they likely crashed somewhere in the Cascade range. The plane’s transmitter isn’t broadcasting so it will make the search more difficult.”

“How difficult,” Owen asked. He was sitting ramrod straight in the chair next to Mark. “They had a flight plan. We follow that and we find them.”

“That’s still a few hundred square miles of terrain to search. The problem,” Ellis looked out her window. Rain was beating a drum beat against the glass and the sky was as dark as the night. The problem was outside the window. “They can’t carry on a search and rescue in this weather. We have to hope they survive until it’s safe for helicopters to fly.”

“So we’re just supposed to wait,” Mark asked. “They can’t put their asses in Jeeps and drive around looking?”

“Mark,” Webber tried to intervene.

Owen shook his head, “Sloan’s right. Just because helicopters can’t fly doesn’t mean the search gets called off. I could—“

“You’ve got a daughter and two little boys,” Webber said. He looked at Mark, “And you’ve got a baby girl. You two aren’t traipsing through the Cascades in the middle of a storm.” He glanced at his wife, “None of us are. We’re leaving this to the professionals and we’re praying. That’s what we’re **all** doing. Getting sleep because they won’t. Staying healthy because they can’t. My daughter is out there. Same as the people you care about. And I will do my damnedest to support her.”

They all mulled over his speech in silence. Even his wife didn’t protest.

Webber was right. Mark couldn’t just hop in his car and go driving through the mountains. He couldn’t abandon his daughter, even though Amelia would gladly— “Had anyone told Amelia?”

He got blank looks.

“What about that librarian chick? Lexie Grey?”

Nothing.

 

####

People were so somber looking when Lexie and Amelia slipped out of the library that Lexie half thought they’d been caught and Ellis Grey was on her way to personally fire her. Involuntarily her hand slipped into Amelia’s for comfort. Then she remembered she was in public and it slipped back out again.

“Geeze,” Amelia said, “who died?”

Lexie had no idea. “You want to go get coffee?”

“Back at my apartment,” she suggested lasciviously.

“The coffee cart in the lobby.”

Amelia shrugged but followed Lexie out to the coffee cart. They each ordered from a cute young barista who eyed them oddly. It reminded Lexie of when she went from patient to employee. The suspicious looks. Like they were all gossiping about her and stopping as soon as she rounded the corner.

Or like they knew something she didn’t. 

She stepped away, leaving Amelia to wait on their orders, and pulled her phone out. Hitting redial she waited and wasn’t disappointed. It immediately went to Meredith’s voicemail.

“It’s Lexie. Again. I’m—okay it would be great if you called me back because first I was freaking out about one thing and now I’m freaking out about a whole other thing and people are staring at me like I’m a freak—which you know—pink hair and all I’m kind of used to. But this is more like ‘that weirdo did cokes lines off of McDreary’ and less like ‘this weirdo has dreads and is related to Grey.’ I’m not—by the way—no coke lines off your boyfriend.”

A kid stopped to gawk at her and she shot his and his dad the bird.

“Just…call me. Okay?”

She hit end and gave the stink eye to two nurses who were staring at her. “What,” she challenged.

Amelia’s hand gripped her by the bicep and pulled her back, “Woah. No yelling at the nurses. Flipping the bird to that five year old was bad enough.”

“They’re all staring.”

Amelia handed Lexie one coffee and took a sip from the other, “I noticed. Think someone caught us hooking up?” Her grin was almost smug and saucy enough to distract Lexie.

Almost. Yet Mark Sloan was walking was walking towards them with his jaw set. Lexie nodded in his direction and Amelia turned.

“Mark,” she said brightly, “how you doing?”

“We need to talk.” 

She didn’t know him well, but he seemed serious enough. Amelia’s smirk faltered. “Seriously. What’s up?”

“Addison and Derek’s plane went down. We don’t know where.” 

The plane. Meredith’s plane. “Is Meredith okay?” 

Meredith was all she had left.

Sloan didn’t know and he looked apologetic about that. 

Amelia called out to her but Lexie was already running. She didn’t really know where. She just felt—as sisters went Meredith was a helluva lot better then her younger one. She was understanding and patient and had a dark streak lurking under that frilly pink wardrobe.

She got Lexie. She loved Lexie. She didn’t have to. She had every right to walk away but she never did. She hugged Lexie on rough days and made sure she was fed. She gave her a home. Stood between her and the very scary Ellis Grey.

Fat drops of rain slapped Lexie’s face.

She’d run outside. Lost her coffee cup in the process. The rain was soaking her shirt and made her jeans heavy. When she looked up into the sky the drops stung her eyes.

She couldn’t lose Meredith. Not when she’d just found her.

“Lexie?”

Amelia was standing behind her and soaked to the bone. 

“She’s my sister.”

“I know.”

“I can’t—I’m not strong enough to lose her.” 

Amelia’s hand was then on her shoulder and it was hot against her wet skin. “I know,” she repeated softly.

What was she saying? Derek was out there. Amelia’s **brother**. And Addison. Even her ex-girlfriend was out there.

Lexie could feel herself crying. “I’m being selfish.”

Amelia said nothing.

“I—“

Warm arms encompassed her and lips, cooled by the rain pressed against her neck. Amelia didn’t offer worthless words of solace. It was like she knew nothing was going to make it better. She just held Lexie, and Lexie let her.

 

####

Meredith and Addison were the first ones back. They had a sweaty, dirty and bloody Derek between them. His arm had been put into a make shift tourniquet of someone’s bra and a twig and his lips were pale from blood loss.

“We need supplies,” Meredith said—sounding not too confident. She helped Addison set Derek on the stairs Callie was leaning against.

“Erica?”

Addison shook her head and rubbed at her chest. “Not good. Arizona was with her.”

Meredith and Addison had come from the opposite direction. They must have circled all the way around the plane looking for Derek. She tried to twist and see if she could see Arizona or Erica but there was only trees and a twinge in her leg. It had turned into an excruciating throbbing pain. It needed to be splinted. Irrigated.

She exhaled shakily.

Meredith yelped in surprised and came back around dragging someone’s half opened suitcase. “Surgical kits,” she explained. “Erica has three of them in here.”

Just like Hahn to prepare for a Hatchet like scenario out in the woods. There was probably a rifle, MREs and medicine in there too.

Meredith continued to root through it, “Nothing else. Just the kits and some Midol and clothes.” She pulled one of the kits out and threw it to Addison. It thumped her in the chest and she looked down at it in a daze.

Callie called her name but Addison just wandered over to part of the fuselage that was facing them and took a seat. She was out of breath breathing like she’d run a marathon despite not being sweaty in the least.

Derek plucked up the kit. “She’s in shock,” he murmured, and opened it.

Callie pointed at the bag. “Get a t-shirt out of there for him.”

Meredith looked confused but Derek agreed, “I’ll need it for my mouth. Probably gonna scream,” he looked sheepish, “a lot.”

Meredith looked as nauseous as Callie felt at that. She grabbed the contact lens solution she’d pulled from someone else’s bag and knelt next to Derek. He took the shirt and stuffed it in his mouth. Callie reached up over her head and offered her hand, which he took gratefully. Then Meredith got to work.

There was screaming. First Derek. Then Callie thought he’d pull her arm off and when she tried to pull away her leg flared up and caused her to involuntarily scream too.

Meredith winced in sympathy but moved fast with the little suture kit she had. Her litany of “I’m sorries” stopped, “There isn’t enough string,” she said.

Derek groaned and collapsed back against the stairs. His head thumped noisily against the metal.

“Safety pins! I had some in my bag, but…” Callie had no idea where her bag was.

Meredith nodded and ran to root through Erica’s bag some more. She came up with a toiletry bag. “No safety pins. Ah! Floss!” She held it up like a prize.

“Hurry,” Derek gasped. Sweat had soaked through his scrubs and his hair was damp and lank. He lips had a little more color than when she’d first seen him.

Meredith got to work. Derek screamed. Away from them Addison ducked her head to shut it all out.

 

####

The clouds were getting more ominous but Arizona couldn’t focus on them. In the distance she could hear sporadic screaming that made her shudder. She hoped it was because someone was administering aid. But it was probably another person dying, only taking longer and suffering considerably more than Erica had. 

The stones that marked her grave were absolutely still.

Arizona fashioned a sling out a shirt that must have come from Derek’s bag. Her arm was on fire and completely useless and it still needed to be set. She could feel the bone scrape against the joint when she moved. The sound was loud in her ears.

 There wasn’t much in the bags. The trip was supposed to be overnight and they’d all just packed a change of clothes. She tried to consolidate it all into a rolling bag that when she opened it she knew immediately to be Callie’s.

She recognized the hairbrush.

A fresh round of tears clawed at her throat and Arizona fought the urge to indulge them. It would be easy. She just had to sit down and lay her head on a pile of Callie’s clothes. They looked soft and they’d smell like her laundry room. Then she could wallow and cry and forget the chill rolling in ahead of the storm.

So easy to just lie down and let the world drift away.

 

####

Addison was a lost cause. She leaned against the fuselage with her chin tucked into her chest and ignored their calls for help, so Meredith helped Callie clean her fracture and brace it with the pilot’s belt, a strap from someone’s carry on and strips of metal that had been pulled loose from the plane.

Derek used part of the cockpit door to give Jerry a c-spine stabilization. Throughout it he explained how they all just had to hold on. There was a transmitter in the tail of the plane and it would lead search and rescue right to them.

Jerry was the only one of them that sounded optimistic. “It should only take a few hours!”

But from what point? Callie had no idea when they’d crashed but she last remember seeing the sun rising over the Cascades. Now it was dark and the sun wasn’t visible. Just ominous clouds that made her nervous.

“We’re gonna need shelter.”

Meredith looked up at the clouds and frowned. “I’ll see if I can find something. If worse comes to worse Addison and I can move you into the fuselage.

Neither of them wanted that. The break was stable for the moment, but it was way too close to some very important arteries to make Callie comfortable. And then there was her chest. It felt heavy and she kept fighting the urge to cough. If she coughed fluid might come up. It might be red. Red was bad.

“Get Addison to help.”

Meredith glanced over at her and Callie was abruptly reminded that the two women didn’t get along. As far as Addison was concerned Meredith had “stolen” Derek from her.

Nevermind the Mark situation.

“She needs to help,” Callie insisted. “Tell her I’m saying so. Or Derek is.”

Meredith rolled her eyes at the suggestion but grunted and stood up. 

Over in the cockpit Jerry had a sudden panic attack about his paralysis.

“It’s temporary right?”

Derek was remarkably calm all things considered. “It could be. Or you could be—“

“Paralyzed,” Callie finished. She looked back to where Arizona had gone. “Someone needs to check on Arizona and Erica.” It had been too long. Arizona should have come back with Erica. Or at least for supplies. Or…or to give them news.

She had to come back.

“Derek!”

Meredith was suddenly panicking and pulling Addison into a supine position. Derek stumbled out of the cockpit and Callie struggled to see from her spot.

“She’s not responsive.”

Pulling herself off the ground with just her arms was agonizing but it gave Callie a better view of Addison. She was indeed non-responsive. Also pale. Meredith ripped Addison shirt to reveal a dark purple bruise that disappeared beneath a black bra.

“Oh God,” she muttered.

Derek stared in horror.

“Check for heart sounds,” Callie reminded Meredith when her brain started working again. 

The shock of the situation pulled Meredith one way. Her training as a cardiothoracic surgeon pulled her the other and she suddenly snapped out of the fugue state she’d started to descend into. She checked for a pulse and leaned over to listen to Addison’s chest and check her breathing.

“I think—I think it’s a cardiac tamponade.”

Callie closed her eyes. That wasn’t good. “Are you sure?”

Meredith looked at her with pleading eyes. She really wasn’t.

Derek was already shaking his head. “It can’t be. We don’t have anything.”

Meredith could do it. If she had to. She could do it. Callie nodded. It gave Meredith whatever it was she needed. “Derek see if you can find a tube. Like from a spray bottle. And a bag.”

“Meredith how sure—“

“Do it.”

Good. Diagnosis was important. But so was confidence. Out here in the woods. She had to be sure of herself.

Derek started rooting through the bags they’d pooled together and Meredith grabbed Addison by the feet and dragged her to Callie. “I need you to confirm.”

“Do I look like an ultrasound?”

“You **look** like a second opinion.” She rested Addison next to Callie and then held Callie’s leg stable so she could lean over and check.

“I’m seventy, maybe eighty percent sure.”

“Me to,” Meredith agreed.

Derek returned with a spray bottle, more wet naps and a ziplock bag. “Seventy percent isn’t so sure.”

Meredith took one of the wet naps and ran it across Addison’s sternum. “Seventy percent is all we have.”

“If you’re wrong—“

“I can’t be.” 

Callie poured saline over the tube Derek pulled from the bottle while Meredith found the edge of her ribcage and put the scalpel to skin. “Hold her down,” she ordered them. She sounded like a real surgeon and the part of Callie that wasn’t terrified was immeasurably proud of her former student.

Addison’s scream seemed to shake the entire forest. Birds flew from trees that swayed with the force of it. A cold wind stole all the warmth from Callie’s body and she shivered and held her friend down as she weakly struggled.

Someone whispered quietly and calmly in an attempt to comfort Addison. Derek winced but kept his knees firmly on Addison’s shoulders.

Callie reminded Meredith how to insert the tube, even though it was from a squirt bottle and probably too short and narrow. But she didn’t have to. Meredith had been dazed and shaky since the crash, but with the scalpel in her hand she was suddenly herself again. More than herself. She was Ellis Grey’s daughter.

“I know,” she said out the corner of her mouth. She pushed.

Addison screamed.

“Keep going. Almost there,” Callie assured her.

Meredith grimaced and kept pushing. It hit that point where it seemed like pushing any further would kill her. But that was the moment when you pushed as hard as you could. Meredith did. The scream could have shattered ear drums. Bright red blood shot out of the tube and into the bag Meredith held to the end.

Callie and Derek both compulsively stroked Addison in an attempt at comfort. Meredith sighed. Then all of a sudden turned and limp ran a little ways a way and vomited. Derek caught Callie’s eye and she wordlessly agreed to stay with Addison while he went to comfort his girlfriend.

“You’re going to be okay,” she whispered.

Addison looked at her with glassy eyes. Her lips moved but nothing came out. Callie leaned close. “You look awful,” Addison croaked.

Callie sat back and Addison managed a smile. Then closed her eyes to rest.

It was colder now. The storm that had been threatening to break for sometime was so close that mid morning looked like twilight. Derek crouched next to a shivering Meredith and rubbed her knee with his functioning hand. Callie pulled a shirt from the open suitcase on the stairs and draped it over Addison’s bare chest.

They were going to die. Out in the woods. Freeze to death. Drown in a storm. Maybe it would be the open fractures and giant lacerations and internal bleeding. But it would take them all the same.

She missed her daughter. Her sons. She missed Owen.

And she missed Arizona. And she hated herself for that.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes the cabin seemed to remain intact on the show. Good thing this is an alternate universe!
> 
> If you’re looking for a response I’d suggest commenting on AO3 or LJ. I’m not crazy about the FF.net commenting system and generally don’t respond to comments there.
> 
> I know there’s some frustration with me covering characters beyond Callie and Arizona. While this series certainly focuses on them and I do post in the C/A LJ community I wouldn’t consider it exclusively a C/A story (and if that means I need to stop posting it in the LJ please let me know!) and I have no plans to change that any time soon. I’m sorry if that’s not your bag but it is what I wanted to try to write. 
> 
> Thanks for the comments. The good and the bad. I’m serious. I really do respect and enjoy all the comments I get—and I absolutely welcome criticism. You can’t improve if you don’t entertain it you know?
> 
> This has been a tirade and now bulked up the word count for the chapter and made me feel like I’m masturbating my ego. So peace out and on with the show. If you stuck through all this then you should be in for a treat.

The cracking of branches and the crinkling of leaves over the sound of the oncoming rain told Callie they had company. And sure enough a bedraggled looking Arizona came out of the tree line dragging Callie’s suitcase.

She saw Callie and smiled a smile more heartening then the situation deserved. Her steps through the wreckage were deliberate and her feet were still bare.

“Derek,” she asked when within talking distance.

Callie pointed to wear Derek and Meredith were looking for wood. “Meredith had to stitch his arm up, but he should be fine. Where’s Erica?”

Arizona shook her head and that was all that needed to be said. She looked down at Addison and frowned.

“Cardiac tamponade,” Callie explained. “Meredith drained it and we’ve got her on oxygen but—“

“Right.” She let the suitcase drop. “We need to move you two into the fuselage.”

Callie had already been thinking about that. Excluding the tail section they had three pieces of fuselage to use as shelter. The cockpit and the two pieces of the main cabin which had shattered on impact. There wasn’t enough room in any one piece for all of them.

Arizona knelt next to her and Callie reached out to stabilize her. “How’s you arm?”

“Fine for now,” she reached out to touch Callie’s cheek, “You’re okay?”

She coughed. “For now.”

And she was. Seeing Arizona and knowing she wasn’t—it did make things better. Not perfect—because they were injuring and dying and stuck in the middle of the mountains. But Arizona crouching next to her made it tolerable.

Meredith and Derek picked their way back through the wreckage with arms full of firewood. Derek sort of stuck his hip out. “I’ve got five matches so we’ll need to make this count.” Meredith dropped her load and reached into his pants pocket to pull them out.

Jerry called from the cockpit, “You’ll need to get cover first. Whatever’s blowing in is blowing in hard. And you don’t want to be caught out here cold **and** wet.”

Shepherd’s eyes were flint-like in their appraisal of the sky. Beside him Meredith said, “I looked around for a tarp or something but all we have our a couple of blankets and someone’s yoga pants.”

The voluminous red and gray yoga pants Callie had immediately recognized as Arizona’s. She’d wrapped them around Addison as a makeshift headrest and scarf and she was pretty sure Arizona’s vanity would keep her from admitting, even in their dire situation, that the ginormous pants were hers.

She did manage to blush at the mention of them though.

Derek threw his armful of wood into one piece of the fuselage then went and surveyed the other. “We’ll split up,” he called out. “Some of us will go into one piece and the others will go in this one.”

A fingertip on her forearm drew Callie back to Arizona. “How bad’s your leg?”

“I can be moved,” she said after clearing her throat.

“It’s an open femur” Meredith protested. “We braced it but it needs to be set before—“

Arizona’s glared at Callie and she, maybe, wilted a little. “Okay. Callie and I will take this closer piece so she doesn’t have to be moved as far. We’ll put Addison over there with you or Derek and,” she nodded her chin towards the cockpit, “someone needs to be with him.”

“Don’t worry about me,” Jerry called out. “Just leave me a blanket and some water and I’ll be fine. I can block the window with my clipboard.”

Meredith shrugged. “So Derek and I will stay with Addison.” She managed to **not** sound unenthused by the prospect.

“I’ll try to stay unconscious,” Addison whispered around her mask, “so you two can be disgustingly cute together.”

 

####

A crack of thunder woke Arizona up. She hadn’t even realized she’d fallen asleep. She and Callie were holed up in part of the fuselage and she’d gone to sit near the opening and watch the rain come down. It blew in coming down in sheets but there was a natural rhythm to the rainfall and it must have caused her to nod off.

She twisted to look at Callie, expecting her to be sleeping. But she wasn’t. She was fighting back a cough and watching Arizona with clever dark eyes.

She smiled weakly. “I nodded off.”

“I noticed. You were cute trying to look awake while sleeping.”

“Callie,” she warned. She couldn’t handle flirting.

“Sorry. No flirting huh.”

“We’d just be asking for trouble.”

Arizona tried to mean it but Callie had a way of staring at her. Even if she didn’t understand Arizona she still had a knack of forcing her to open up and say things she normally wouldn’t.

“So I shouldn’t tell you I miss you.”

Damn it Callie. She begged her silently to say nothing. A small smile crossed Callie’s lips. She had a captive audience in her ex-girlfriend. 

“You know we didn’t date that long, so it’s ridiculous to miss you. But you were my first woman and even when we were just friends and you were there for me during all the crap with Owen. I liked being with you.”

“You don’t miss me for the sex,” she joked.

Callie cocked her head, “I do,” she admitted softly, “but I miss you for the conversation too.”

“And now you got me where you want me.”

“I crashed a plane into a mountain to find out why you broke up with me.”

It was a joke, a dark one. Arizona was accustomed to dark jokes. She had Alex Karev as a protege and was herself known to unload a little black humor when things were bleak. But all she could see was Erica’s face before the last few rocks covered her corpse. She shuddered.

Callie misinterpreted it, “You cold?”

She was fighting a chill—though nothing as severe as what Callie probably suspected. But she’d pulled her wad of blankets and shirts away and the seat cushion next to her looked awfully inviting.

Arizona tucked her good hand into her sling and gingerly sat down next to her. She let Callie fuss over their covers and pressed her injured shoulder up against Callie’s soft curves. The warmth dulled the ache more than the Midol Derek had carefully rationed out.

“Mm, you are warm,” she said pleasurably.

Callie was careful and wrapped her arm around Arizona’s shoulders and pulled her in closer. “It’s probably an infection. Turning me into a furnace.”

Arizona started to pull away, but Callie’s arm held her tight. “And even if it is there isn’t much we can do without antibiotics.”

“Too bad none of us had syphilis.”

Callie laughed, “Alex should have come.”

“Ew. Really?”

“He gave it to half the nursing staff the first year of his internship.”

Arizona blinked.

“Including a couple of guys. Though they **all** insisted they got it from sleeping with nurses he slept with.”

“Dirty.” She pulled her hand out of her sling and reached out to grasps Callie’s hand beneath the blankets. Ostensibly for more warmth but really to—

Callie kissed her ear, quite involuntarily, “Are you trying to check my stats?”

“You’re warm,” she whispered.

“I’ve got an open femur in the middle of the woods. I’ll be lucky if I don’t get myonecrosis.”

She massaged Callie’s wrist before checking her pulse. “That’s not funny.” Myoncrosis, or gas gangrene, was fast moving, deadly, and always required amputation. In the woods without a bone saw, anesthesia and really a working OR it would likely kill Callie.

Her pulse was a little faster than Arizona would have liked, and she was ridiculously warm despite the chill. But she wasn’t shivering and her breathing seemed normal. She tried to move to get a better look at Callie’s leg.

Beneath the blankets Callie’s hand covered Arizona’s. She ran her thumb soothingly over Arizona’s palm. “Relax.”

She did. A little. Lightening arced across the sky, but the rain was too heavy to see more than a flash of it followed quickly by thunder. They both counted then realized what they were doing and laughed.

“My leg is fine for now,” Callie reiterated. She was still holding Arizona’s hand and, in fact, had pulled it closer to her body. “Your fingers are cold.”

Because it was cold. A fine mist of rain kept drifting into their little shelter and keeping the temperature down. And Arizona was never a particularly warm bodied individual. She had freezing feet most days. Worse when she was stuck in the forest with no shoes.

She wriggled her toes. “I wish I could have found my shoes before the storm hit.”

“You want to borrow mine? Not like I’m using them.”

“No. You need to stay warm.”

“So do you.”

An impasse. Callie pulled Arizona closer and rested her cheek on top of Arizona’s head. Her body shook with a tickling little cough and Arizona let her good hand rub circles on Callie’s thigh. It was easier not to argue. To just be peaceful in their little damp cocoon.

Another crack of lightening. Close this time. Somewhere in the woods the hard winds caught a tree and the sound of wood ripping apart was louder then any gale or thunder.

“Angus gets scared in storms,” Callie said distantly. “Gavin loves a thunderstorm but they terrify Angus.”

“I remember. It rained that night I babysat them. Angus was petrified it would get worse. Gavin wanted to run his bare little bottom through it.” 

Callie’s voice was rough. “I came home and you were sitting on the couch reading. You looked so sexy.”

“Weren’t you straight back then?”

“Not when I saw you. Not when you hugged me.” Her cough was a little more persistent. Arizona placed her palm on Callie’s chest and rubbed. It wasn’t the same but it seemed to help.

“I was in love with you then,” she admitted. “You walked in in that dress and I felt like—like I could do it.” Back then she’d entertained the thought—in the darkest recesses of her brain—that maybe she could be like those women from the movies she’d grown up on. Not the lesbians, but the straight women who had it all.

The next cough was more a loud and honky bark. “Who’s going to be there for Allegra? Owen would hate it if I told you, but menstruation freaks him out. Big time. Ridiculous right? So who? His **mother**? **Yang**?”

“They’ve gotta be looking for us. We’ll get out.” She leaned over Callie and cupped her cheek to keep insure she looked Arizona in the eye. She was paler—with dark circles under her eyes and her lips were chapped. The only color was from the bloody scrapes along one side of her face from where she’d slid across the ground after the crash. “We’ll be okay Callie.”

She smiled and covered Arizona’s hand with her own. She was crying. Callie was crying. “But we aren’t.” She coughed again. Red flourished on her lips.

“Wha—Callie!”

Callie swallowed. Arizona heard the cough again. She’d been hearing it for hours and never quite registering it. Over and over again, a muffled cough. A surreptitious motion of her hand as she wiped phlegm away.

Not phlegm.

“It’s a pulmonary embolism,” Callie said. “And I think it’s getting worse.”

 

####

She’d been with the kids all day and, in a miracle that her stepfather would have praised if he ever went to temple, she hadn’t killed them. The rain had kept them in all morning and Owen’s mother suggested they stay at her place while she ran her own errands.

It was much easier than Cristina thought. They were self sufficient for a bunch of toddlers and content to run around screaming while she popped in some headphones and read journals.

Around noon the daughter, Allegra, approached her and asked about lunch.

It was not as easy as she thought corralling three infants into the kitchen and into chairs. Then she had to make three sandwiches and each kid, sensing her apprehension like tiny social predators, demanded different flavors.

Allegra led the charge and managed to exude petulance Cristina had never seen before in a kid so young. And she grew up in **Beverly Hills**. “Mommy uses the smooth peanut butter.”

Mommy also bangs pediatric surgeons.

“Daddy puts the peanut butter on both pieces of bread.”

And Daddy wouldn’t get laid ever again after this.

“Grandma makes her own jam.”

Grandma makes—this kid **had** to be kidding.

“Doctor Robbins cuts the crust.”

That Doctor Robbins had seen them enough that they knew her sandwich preparing habits terrified Cristina. Not only was she competing with Callie for the kids’ affection she had to compete with the ex-girlfriend?

“And your other grandparents? Do they lightly toast the bread or grill it in an egg wash or something?”

The kids didn’t get it. They all blinked and stared at her blankly. 

Allegra shrugged. “We don’t know.”

“Grandma says they can’t find their asses without the maid’s help,” Angus said, perfectly emulating his grandmother’s speech pattern in his tiny voice.

“They’re whiny bitches,” Gavin said solemnly.

 

####

She didn’t wait. A pulmonary embolism was treatable with anti-coagulants. Which they were fresh out of in the woods. But oxygen would help. The rain soaked her as soon as she stepped out of their shelter. Ice cold mud squished up through her socks and the wind buffeted her body. She had to squint in all the dark gray to see the other piece of fuselage.

Arizona had to be careful. There was debris everywhere, and hidden by the rainfall. If she stepped on a piece of medal, damaged her feet—borrowing Callie’s shoes sounded like a good idea all of a sudden.

Meredith was hugging herself and waiting at the entrance to her piece of fuselage. “What—is Callie okay?”

She shook her head. “A PE,” she said. The dash had made her a little breathless and her arm was still on fire. “I need—I need the oxygen.”

Derek was sitting at the back of their piece of the cabin with Addison’s head in his lap. “How bad is it?”

“Not good.” Don’t cry.

He carefully pulled the mask away from Addison’s face. Like Callie, and really all of them, she looked awful. Pale and lethargic. She didn’t move when the oxygen was taken away. Even from a distance Arizona could see her breathing was shallow.

Derek handed the mask to Meredith who wrapped it and the tubing around the oxygen tank. He reached into his pocket and held up a small vial. “I’ve only got a couple. I was saving them for when the Midol ran out.”

He tossed the vial over Meredith’s head and Arizona caught it. She looked at the label. “Aspirin?”

“It could help.”

If he hadn’t had his ex-wife in his lap Arizona would have dashed over and kissed him. She jammed the little travel bottle of aspirin in her pocket and reached out for the oxygen which Meredith held protectively. “I’ll carry it.”

Arizona kept her hand held out expectantly. “I’m already soaked and you aren’t. The fewer people in this the better.”

Meredith gave her the oxygen but supported the bottom of the barrel until she was sure Arizona had it. Arizona started to head back out into the downpour.

“Wait!”

Meredith ran back to Addison and pulled off her tennis shoes. “You can use these more then she can.” She tied the laces together and tucked them into Arizona’s sling. “Wait until they’re dry again and put them on. You’re the only one who can walk a straight line right now and we need to keep it that way.”

It was true. Meredith’s leg had a hand towel wrapped around it and she was limping like a toe or two was broken. And Derek—the blood loss was too extensive. If things cleared up and someone had to walk out of the mountains it would have to be Arizona.

She accepted the shoes gratefully. “Thank you.”

“Just keep her safe.”

 

####

The back door opened and Cristina did a good job covering up her relief. She would never admit to Owen that she’d felt out of her depth being alone with all three of his children but it had been the most time she’d spend with kids not under anesthesia since she’d actually been their age.

She hopped off the couch and tried to dash nonchalantly to the back door to greet Owen’s mom.

But instead of the sixty something spitfire who’s frankness was at odds with her son’s gentility she found her boyfriend.

“Hey I thought we were supposed to meet you at the hospital later this afternoon?”

He shook his head. Took a step forward. Stopped.

“Owen? What’s—”

Then he was crossing the small distance between them and wrapping her in his arms. His grip was tight and he seemed to be drawing strength just from her embrace. She let him hug her, too confused to do otherwise.

“What happened?”

He shook his head. Grief or worry too potent for him to speak. She ran her hands across the corded muscles of his back and held him, because she honestly had no idea what else she was supposed to do.

 

####

Arizona didn’t handle Callie’s diagnosis as well as she had. In fact moments after she heard it she was running through the rain promising to return with oxygen.

And true to her word minutes later she was splashing through the rain with their one oxygen tank under her arm. She stepped carefully over debris and knelt next to Callie. 

“O2,” she said a little breathlessly, “and,” she reached into the pocket of her coat, “aspirin.”

“Yea.”

Between her leg and her difficulty taking a complete breath Callie wasn’t feeling too energetic. She quietly accepted a swig of rain water collected in a bottle and swallowed two of the aspirin. Arizona removed her damp jacket and laid it, dry side down, over Callie’s feet.

“We need to get your leg elevated okay?”

She didn’t wait for agreement. Callie braced herself as Arizona piled seat cushions carefully under her leg. The urge to scream was uncontrollable, but Callie managed to bite most of it back. 

“Sorry,” Arizona said. She grimaced as she used her good arm to position Callie’s leg. “Just a little bit more. Then you can lay down okay?”

She was true to her promise and finished relatively quickly. Then she came around and positioned herself as a pillow for Callie’s head. “Relax.”

“Easy for you to say. Your femur isn’t sticking out of your leg.” It was supposed to be a joke. Arizona didn’t even smile. She ran her hand over Callie’s arms then snaked it under her shoulder to keep her still as she scooted closer.

“Addison was doing pretty well. In and out of consciousness but still alive. I think she’s staying with us just to bug Webber.”

“Addison’s a rich trust fund girl. We’re harder to kill than cockroaches when we want to spite people.”

“If we live does that mean me breaking up with you kept you alive?”

Like she could be spiteful over the breakup. A little angry, yes. Confused. Absolutely. But she hadn’t reached a point where she really hated Arizona. If only she could. It would have been so easy to get over it all by hating her guts.

“Can I ask you something?” She had a captive audience. A worried one too judging by the agonized look on her face. So what could it hurt? 

Arizona ran her hand gently through Callie’s hair. Her fingers caught in the tangles, but she was careful not to pull too hard. “Sure,” she said softly.

It was a weird position to be in with her. She had to look up and the dull light filtered through the clouds made Arizona look ghostly. Her eyes were bluer than usual. Callie often thought of them as being dark, for blue eyes. They were blue like the highest point of the sky. Almost navy. Not today. They were pale. The edge of the sky at mid day. 

“Why’d you leave me?”

Did she sound delicate asking that question? Was she pathetic? So much of herself had been chipped away in the last few months and Arizona had been integral to keeping those pieces together. And as easily as she’d slipped in she’d slipped away. A friendly ghost who promised a better life that she would never deliver.

The question clearly pained Arizona. She bit her lip. But she didn’t turn away. Just kept on lovingly looking down at Callie.

“I made a mistake,” she finally said.

“Don’t.” Calle reached up and pulled Arizona’s hand from her hair to hold against her chest. “Don’t lie today.”

“I’m not.”

“Don’t say I’m a mistake.”

Her eyes widened, “You never are,” she said urgently. Her fingers dug into Callie’s shirt. “Being with you felt right. Waking up next to you? Spending time with you? I’ve never felt more right in my life.”

“Then why?”

Now Arizona looked away. She leaned against the wall. Callie could feel a monologue coming on and shifted her leg a little.

“I like my life. My brother and I were kind of sickly when were kids and we spent a lot of time at the hospital plotting our futures. He wanted to be a Marine just like the Colonel and I wanted to be just like out doctors. And I’ve got that now. I like where I live and I love my coworkers and the work I do changes lives.”

She seemed to think on it.

“The only thing I haven’t liked—I wanted someone there with me. Maybe not like my mom and dad, but I wanted a partner. And then I found you.”

She looked down and smiled tremulously.

“And you’re wrong in all these ways. You’re not gay and you’ve got this ex-husband and all these kids and this life. Your life. You weren’t the mistake Callie. Me falling so deeply, deeply in love with you was.”

“But you did it anyways,” she whispered.

Something between a laugh and a sob escaped her lips. “Yeah I did.” She leaned down and kissed Callie’s forehead. It was as comforting as her mother’s touch. But more so. It was how Arizona always touched her. Contentment incarnate.

“So what did I do,” a cough, “to make you stop?”

“Nothing. I’ll love you as long as I’m alive.” She looked surprised, “Don’t you know that?”

She didn’t. Arizona professed love sometimes. Made love. Sometimes she could look at her and Callie would see nothing else, but that wasn’t the same as constantly feeling it. Arizona seemed so fickle. So distant. It was as though she was always running and it was up to Callie to always chase her.

“I didn’t want it to be twenty years later Callie. I didn’t want to find myself changing everything for you and your kids and twenty years later resenting you for it.” She pressed another kiss to Callie’s forehead but didn’t sit back up afterwards so she only had to whisper. “I’d rather spend twenty years away from you and loving you and seeing you happy with someone else then **ever** find myself hating you.”

It was the first profession of love from Arizona that Callie honestly believed.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bluebirds was a Camp Fire USA program. I date myself mentioning it.
> 
> Debra Mooney plays Owen’s mother in the show. Having vague memories of her being fabulous on Everwood I may have drawn from that well to develop her character here. She needs a name. Anyone want to suggest one?
> 
> If you haven’t read Chapter Four in a while I might suggest a quick refresher before heading in. It was pretty fabulous anyways.

“That’s not how it works.” Callie pulled her oxygen mask off like she was ready for a fight. “You can love someone and hate them. You can love someone and want to murder them.” She had to work to breath but her voice was still wickedly powerful. “Don’t **you** know **that** ,” she spat. Throwing Arizona’s words back at her and glaring at her with righteous fury.

Arizona’s hand paused in her caresses. She’d professed certain truths to Callie. Let the words slip right out. Admitted to feelings she normally would have kept close and guarded.

What did she expect? Maybe that Callie would go to sleep after hearing it? Or she’d calmly accept Arizona’s reason and they’d—what—be friends? 

Instead her face flushed. She kept one hand on her mask but covered Arizona’s with the other. “It’s miserable Arizona,” she said urgently, “it’s hard and painful and you have to expose yourself in ways you can never imagine, but it’s worth it.” She squeezed, “it **is** worth the risk.”

It. No. Them.

“I don’t want to hate you,” she confessed. Her eyes were leaking again. But the tears didn’t ache and scratch at her throat like usual. They were more byproducts of the conversation. 

Callie’s thumb, cold in the storm, caught a tear. Rubbed it against Arizona’s cheek. She said nothing more and Arizona carefully readjusted the mask. 

It took a crash didn’t it? A massive and traumatic event. She didn’t want to hate Callie, but she didn’t want to lose her either. And whether through sickness or trauma or a wink from the right person one day Callie would leave her. She wouldn’t haunt the halls of Seattle Grace forever and it took losing Erica and being stranded on a mountain to realize that.

She took Callie’s hand and pressed it to her lips. She didn’t—she didn’t want to live without Callie. Loving her from afar was easy. Loving her up close was hard. Not having her there to love? It was impossible. 

“I’m too tired to yell at you about this now,” Callie whispered. The fire had eked out of her quickly. “But tomorrow…tomorrow I’m gonna kick you ass.”

“Verbally?”

She laughed then groaned when it tweaked her leg. “Yes. Maybe I’ll poke you with a stick.”

Arizona had to smile, “I’ll look forward to it.”

Callie’s eyes drifted close and after some time Arizona’s did too.

Even in their situation falling asleep staring at Callie’s face was perfect.

 

####

A plane crashed in a forest and Cristina had just missed being on it. She was relieved. Who wouldn’t be?

But her best friend was on that plane. Her boyfriend’s ex-wife. Friends and colleagues and even her boss were out there.

Did they die on impact? Did the plane go up in a fiery plume? Or maybe one or two survived and watched the storm blow in as life guttered out.

Owen was still clinging to hope—that they were all still alive and huddled for warmth somewhere out there.

She wanted to be realistic and remind him that it wasn’t easy to survive a plane crash. Did he remember the year before when a plane had gone down leaving just one young survivor? And that had been a big plane. This was a little one which would have twisted in the wind and been ripped apart as soon as it hit the trees.

People didn’t survive crashes like that. Their bodies were pierced, crushed, and crumpled when the flying tube of metal they were in smashed into mountains.

His mother tried to tell him that. She wanted to prepare him. Prepare the children. “You should call Carlos,” she urged, “they should be here.”

Cristina said nothing.

“Owen—“ his mother had reached for him with gentle hands and he’d jerked away.

“I’m not telling my kids their mother is dead. I won’t do that. Until I see her bo—until I **know**.”

He’d stalked out of the room like a wraith and left Cristina alone with his mother. She sighed and stood up, “Drink?” 

“No, thank you.”

She ignored Cristina and poured two fingers of whiskey for them both. Cristina took hers and set it on the coffee table.

“He was the same way when his father died. Riddled with cancer and shitting in a bag and there was Owen holding onto hope when pragmatism was better.”

Maybe the whiskey wasn’t such a bad idea. She took a sip.

“Callie was like Owen. Both of ‘em optimists to a fault. It’s why it took them so damn long to break that marriage up. They kept **hoping**. What about you?” She peered at Cristina like enough whiskey would give her a window to Cristina’s soul. “You gonna balance him or be like her and send him packing when he stops therapy and accidentally chokes you?”

That probably didn’t warrant a response. She took another long draught of the whiskey and handed the half empty glass back. “I’m going to go talk to him.”

Inadvertently she must have answered the question because his mother smiled. “Good for you.” 

 

####

They insisted the search would renew in the morning when the storm had blown over. “There’s nothing we can do now,” they said with reluctance. “Go home.”

Owen went home. And Amelia and Webber’s sister disappeared. Mark wandered the hospital for a while with his daughter in his arms. Drank coffee and had an apple in the cafeteria where residents looked at him askance. He hung out in Peds where his wife and his best friend saved little kids and babies. 

That one fellow, Bailey, was busy with Karev. With Peds down two doctors they were stuck managing the entire department. She seemed together. A far cry from the meek woman he’d once run into.

She even approached him. “Doctor Sloan what are you doing here?”

He didn’t know. Wandering. Maybe he’d go to Neuro next. Anything was better than going home. At the hospital he at least felt—he didn’t feel like he was worthless.

“You should take your daughter home,” she said sympathetically.

“She’s fine,” her head was pillowed against his chest, “she likes the hospital.”

Bailey opened her mouth. Shut it. She took a seat on the bench next to him and put a hand on his wrist. “Dr. Sloan, get some sleep.”

He thought about telling her to go to hell.

“Wandering the hospital like a ghost? It isn’t helping them and it isn’t helping you.”

“Sitting in an empty apartment will?”

“No,” she said gently, “it won’t. But you’ve got a little girl that needs sleep.”

He put his hand protectively around his daughter’s head. She was so tiny her whole head fit in his palm and the fine hairs on her head brushed lightly against his fingers. She was going to be a blond. Maybe a redhead like her mother.

Bailey sighed loudly in a bid to interrupt Mark’s thoughts, “Also you’re making all the nurses and residents uncomfortable. And,” she dropped her voice, “you’ve got spit up all over your back.”

Whaaa— he twisted in his seat to look over his back. A milky stain ran down his shoulder.

“It’s unprofessional Dr. Sloan,” she said equal parts maternal and chastising.

When did that even happen? 

He stood up. Started to say something. Nothing came out. 

“Go home,” she said again.

 

####

The door opened and something really nasty nearly slipped off Owen’s tongue. But it was Cristina at the door—not his mother. She came closer. Stopped. Shook her head, wordlessly communicating that she had no words to offer as comfort.

And who did?

“I can’t tell them,” he reasserted.

Cristina had an expressive face if one took the time to study it. Knowing her for three years he’d missed it at first. She was his wife’s robotic little protege. 

Then he started paying attention. Saw the compassion she sometimes showed children when no one was paying attention. The urgency when she was trying to save a life. Not because someone’s death could hurt her career—but because beneath all the bravado and excellence was a woman who genuinely wanted to save lives. She didn’t just do it because she was good at it.

And standing in the doorway to his bedroom her face was an open book, pages flitting past in an instant, almost too fast to read.

Finally she reached some conclusion on the inside. Nodded to herself as she quietly shut the door and stepped all the way in.

“There’s this club. One kids shouldn’t have to join and one adults can never understand.” Her voice was flat. “The dead parents club.”

Owen closed his eyes. He couldn’t look at her and he sure as hell couldn’t consider that.

“I lost my dad when I was nine and if this is the case for them it’s—“

It would be catastrophic.

She sat down next to him, her thigh brushing his. “I don’t want your kids to be a part of this club, but if they are I’ll,” she sighed, a promise dragged out of her, “I’ll be there for them.”

 Owen pressed his hand against her cheek. Was she serious? There was a resolve there. He pushed her against the bed with a kiss. Kissed her because thinking anymore hurt.

And because promising to help kids was as big an expression of love as Cristina Yang was probably ever capable of.

 

####

They ended up back at the apartment Amelia shared with Arizona. Both of them nursed coffees because what they really wanted they couldn’t have.

Amelia’s lithe hands were wrapped around a mug that was designed to look like a tribal mask. Her fingers dug into the dark divots meant to be eyes. 

“You know, Derek was there with me when my dad died.”

Lexie didn’t know that. If she’d been asked she would have said she thought Amelia’s dad was alive—that she just had a bad relationship with him. Like Lexie had had with her own father.

“I—I didn’t.”

“We never talk about it because seeing your dad get shot and die when you’re a kid isn’t, you know, conversation for family get togethers. But Derek was there. It’s this—this thing that he and I have that our sisters can’t touch.”

“I didn’t know about your dad.”

Amelia shrugged, “It’s not a big deal.” The shrug said quite the contrary.

“My other sister, not Meredith, but the one down in San Diego? We split up after our dad died.” It had taken a long time to forgive her. And a new sister. That had helped. “I guess she couldn’t watch her older sister try to follow him and I couldn’t watch my little sister forget it all. So seeing people like you and your brother actually talk to each other, you know, hold onto one another after something like that—“

Amelia laughed, “Right. Derek was really there for me after Dad died. I went down a rabbit hole of pills Lexie. Derek couldn’t be bothered to look me in the eye. Addison was the one that pulled me out. Derek and I may share this—whatever, but Addison is the one—“

Lexie grasped her hand. “Don’t.” Don’t say something she’d regret. Don’t choose one sibling over the other.

“What if they’re both gone?”

She sounded like a child. Like the little niece she had and had never seen.

 

####

“Callie?”

She sleepily opened her eyes and looked up. It was hard to see. The storm wasn’t quite as bad as it had been but it had lasted into the night and it was still too wet to start a fire. So she could only see an outline of Arizona. Her brain put the pieces she couldn’t see together. The blond hair was a little more visible. The glistening of the eyes she knew were a beautiful blue.

She smiled. 

“Callie stay awake.”

Had she fallen asleep?

“You need to stay awake okay?”

She nodded. “Okay.”

She thought she saw a smile.

“I can stay awake.”

A hand ran through her hair. Just the one. Arizona had hurt the other one. She remembered that. She took a deep breath and oxygen from the mask flooded her lungs. Arizona must have put it back on at some point. Things grew clearer as she sucked more air in. It was harder than it should have been.

“I passed out.”

Arizona’s voice was soft in the darkness, “You did.” She continued to stroke Callie’s hair.

She tried to remember what they’d been talking about before. What it had looked like outside? But for hours things had just sort of drifted. The location and the pain were constants that seemed to keep the passage of time at bay.

“I was thinking about what you said.”

What had she said? Was it—it was about resentment. About love. That was hours ago. She’d been so mad. Her blood had thrummed in her head and she’d wanted to punch or kiss the stupid out of the other woman. She couldn’t remember which.

Arizona leaned down to kiss her forehead. She rocked Callie against her gently as she spoke, “I guess I just have this image in my head of how my life is supposed to be. I’m this type-A girl and I went and fell in love with an artist.” Her lips stilled. They were cool against Callie’s skin. Then she could feel them move. Like a smile. “A cardiothoracic surgeon artist,” she amended. “You’ve got this stubborn bravery Callie and this resolve that I find breathtaking. You ruin everything and it terrifies me.”

“Sweet talker.”

The arm holding her to Arizona tightened. Someone’s breath was shaky. Hers? Arizona’s? She could feel tears fall onto her face. Blazing heat that cooled in an instant. “Will you…will you live? For me. Will you just live for me?”

Why wouldn’t she?

And why was it so hard to breathe?

 

####

Keys rattling in a door across the hall pulled Amelia and Lexie both out of the stupor they’d sat in on Arizona’s couch. 

“Must be Mark,” Amelia muttered.

They hadn’t seen him since they’d left the hospital. He’d just sort of drifted out of Lexie’s mind after Amelia had found her outside. “Should we ask him over?”

Lexie wasn’t really sure what the procedure was for friends and families during a plane crash. Did everyone sit around quietly weeping? Were they supposed to be in Jeeps driving up a mountain to look? Or should she have maxed out her credit card and stolen a few more to pay for a chartered helicopter?

Amelia jogged out into the hallway and invited him over.

The man who entered wasn’t the man she was used to seeing. He eyed her suspiciously and held his daughter protectively to his chest.

“What are you two doing in here?”

“Waiting,” Amelia said. “We couldn’t stay at the hospital.”

“This is Robbins’ place.”

“And I live with her.”

“You mooch Amelia.” He leaned past her to glare at Lexie, “You’re not stealing anything are you?”

“Mark, lay off.”

“Your girlfriend is a coke addict.”

Amelia laughed bitterly. “Oh that’s what this is about. I’m sleeping with her.”

“No, but you can understand my suspicion. Also the fact that when you go off the rails it tends to be right into the arms of women.”

Amelia put her thumb to her ear and her pinky to her mouth like a telephone. “Hey pot? Kettle? Guess what color you are?”

“Are you being racist?”

Lexie set her mug down on the coffee table loud enough to startle the baby into tears. “Okay,” she said loudly over the infant’s cry. “You two are both clearly freaking out and saying terrible things because people you care about are in danger. You get that right?”

They continued to glare at each other. 

“Can we all just sit down? In peace?” Her eyes flickered from Amelia to Mark. “Please?”

“All right,” Mark said—a step away from snarling, “But Amelia can change the baby.” He held his stinky daughter out like an offering.

It was better than yelling at least.

 

####

They had dozed off and on starting at some point in the late afternoon. Arizona’s watch had stopped in the crash so she had no idea what time it was that Callie’s difficulty breathing arose. It was dark. Arizona woke up and Callie was fighting. She’d been saving the last of the oxygen and quickly slipped the mask over Callie’s face and held her as she rambled.

Hypoxia. That’s what she was seeing. Hypoxia because of a stupid embolism. Things that she could treat in a heartbeat in a hospital were killing the woman she…loved. The woman she was bound and determined to make her girlfriend when they got out of the woods. They’d get healthy and they’d spend every waking moment together and if she had to spend her nights at Callie’s playing with kids then so be it. She’d do it. She’s weather another woman’s laborious coming out process and  rude parents and awkward questions from kids and Owen Hunt’s suffocating presence.

She’d do anything.

“Will you just live for me,” she whispered to a woman too far gone to hear. “Please.” She could have told her to live for her parents or her children or the hospital. Even Owen, but Arizona needed to be selfish. Needed to plea to Callie, nature and whatever god might be in the sky.

The darkness clung to the forest like a thick black velvet cloth and the chill of the mountain air sapped Arizona’s strength and left her shivering.

“Please live.” It was a mantra repeated to Callie and to herself. If they could just hold on. The worst of the storm had passed and the search and rescue teams would be out in full force. They’d find them and get Callie to a hospital and everything would be okay. 

The way the sun soon rose was subtle. A gentle shift from black to gray. It was so small a change that at first she wanted to blame it on her imagination. But trees took shape. The cockpit there. The other half of the fuselage. Images she’d committed to memory were brought into the light in full relief.

She watched Meredith make her way through it all with dark bruises under her eyes and a heavy limp.

“How’s Addison,” she asked when Meredith was within speaking distance.

“Not good. Callie?”

She ran a hand over Callie’s face. Gray in the early morning light. “The same,” her voice cracked at the statement.

Meredith squatted against the wall opposite them. She’d turned a long tree limb into a walking stick and used it to brace herself. “Derek’s blood loss was bad yesterday. If we go through another day of this though…”

“We’ll lose all of them.”

Meredith nodded. “If we had any idea where we were I’d suggest you or me trying to walk out and get help, but…” Without supplies and a map it was pointless. They could end up walking for days or falling into a ravine. An undiagnosed head trauma could present and they could collapse right where they stood.

“We need to build a fire. A big fire with a lot of smoke.” Isn’t that what they used to talk about as kids out camping? 

“Keep the leaves out of the fire,” her dad chastised, “you want the Viet Cong to see us from space?” She and Tim would roll their eyes and then play a quiet game of Rock, Paper, Scissors to determine who would approach the Colonel and enquire as to the whereabouts of the marshmallows and Hershey bars.

Meredith reached into her pocket and produced a box of matches. 

“We’ve got three left. And Derek put all the wood we picked up in the cockpit.”

“Okay.” Okay. “Okay so you and I are going to build a fire.”

Meredith looked about as confident as Arizona felt. “Do you know anything about building fires?”

“Just what I remember from Bluebirds.”

Meredith looked like she was going to vomit.

“My dad was a Marine,” she feebly added.

That seemed to give Meredith a little hope. “He taught you how to build a fire?”

She shrugged an affirmative. It wasn’t true, but Meredith didn’t need to know that. And Arizona could still hope that some of those Marine genes made it through her pink and fluffy interior intact.

Meredith helped Arizona get out from under Callie’s unconscious form. Neither woman commented on Callie’s unresponsiveness as they moved her. She wasn’t even wincing in pain anymore. The pilot was dead to the world as well in the cockpit. They’d bundled him up the day before and left him with a bottle of water and he’d staved off the storm with clipboards stacked against the broken windows—but the night had been cruel and he only shuddered a little when they called his name.

They built their fire under the nose of the plane. It seemed a little drier there and by propping up a piece of the thin outer skin of the plane they were able to keep the rain off of it.

Building it into anything substantial took considerably longer. Crouching under the meager cover they’d built Arizona held a mass of seat cushion and twigs that Meredith carefully lit.

The first two sputtered out before the branches they set them in could catch light. A shared look had them each silently promising not to panic.

“Last one,” Meredith said tremulously.

“Okay do it.”

Meredith started to strike the match.

“Wait.” The flare gun! It only had two flares in it, but all they needed was one. A fire was desperately more important. If they had a fire they could start tiny ones in their little shelters. Warm up their dying friends. That second flare wouldn’t matter in the least if they were all too cold and weak to use it. She reached into Meredith’s pocket where the neon orange handle of the gun stuck out obscenely. “We can use the flare,” she explained. “Like one of those starter logs.”

They rebuilt the pile of wood around the flare and fluffed up their little starter pile of fluff. Shared nervous smiles. The hiss of a match. Finally a fire that didn’t gutter out with the gentle breeze. Arizona carefully set it into it’s little nest and both women hunched over it like cavewomen.

They waited.

And waited.

The fire didn’t go out.

“We did it.” Meredith sounded in awe of their skills. There they were two surgeons who could save a person’s life with robots and a twist of the wrist and they were suddenly grinning like they’d cured Alzheimer’s.

“We did it.”

They started to hug over the open flame but backed off sheepishly when the heat of it reached them.

They’d built a fire. Screw being surgical gods. They were primordial ones.

 

###

The call came around seven. Mark scrambled for his phone and Lexie pushed off the head rest she’d made of Amelia’s thigh.

The big fancy pretentious plastic surgeon was quiet as he received whatever news there was. He nodded jerkily and Lexie, suddenly too amped to stay seated, got up and picked the baby up from her swing.

He hung up and the phone slipped from his hand onto the couch.

Amelia pressed him, “What happened?”

“They found them thirty minutes ago. Medivac’d the survivors to Boise.”

“Survivors.” That meant someone was dead. She held the baby she didn’t even know tighter to her like that teddybear her dad gave her when she was four.

It took Mark a minute to process what he needed to say. “Two people—there were two casualties. Ellis didn’t know who.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m still out on a business trip but that doesn’t mean I can go COMPLETELY cold turkey. Really wanted to get past this hump so we can get to gooey and delicious domestic drama.

Their rescuers evacuated them in shifts. A man would come down next to a sled and they’d put the most critical in the sled and send them up. Meredith and Arizona, being the only two even remotely okay, were the last out. The paramedic had Arizona lie down in the sled and he carefully strapped her in.

“You’re going to be okay,” he said reassuringly. It was probably a line that worked on most of those they rescued. Mountaineers and hikers. Not surgeons. Arizona knew the prognosis for every single person on the ground. She knew the months and even years of physical therapy ahead of them all. She knew it was anything but okay.

But she lay back in the sled and watched the sky shrink away as the helicopter grew larger. They slid her in and helped her out and sat hear near the door so they could work on their more serious patients.

The beat of the copter’s rotors changed tempo and Arizona clung to the edge and watched the crash site disappear into the trees. Leaving Erica all alone out in the wilderness. More crews would come later. They’d collect her body and examine the debris and gather in a room to discuss what had occurred and how to prevent it in the future and exactly how much they should pay out to the victims and their families to avoid a lawsuit.

Jerry wouldn’t be present for those meetings despite being the pilot. He passed away en route to the hospital in Boise. He’d said they landed on the coastal side of the Cascades. In fact they’d landed in the foothills of the continental side. The storm had flooded much of the coast and left them only cold and severely damp. That had saved their lives. If they’d landed a hundred miles west they would have all died.

As it was all but the pilot and Erica survived the trip to the hospital. They were whisked off in different directions as soon as the helicopter touched down on the helipad. Self important surgeons looking to shine in front of the world’s best greeted them and shouted overly technical commands to one another at a run. They tried to force Meredith and Arizona into wheelchairs to bring them indoors but both women rejected the overture and limped after the others.

They trailed behind like ghosts and stopped only when the doors to the OR snapped shut before them. Each woman snapped out of her shock and stepped back. Meredith limped to a row of chairs and slumped into the closest one. Arizona held her arm to her chest to keep the bones from scraping against each other and leaned against the wall.

She closed her eyes for just a minute. It was warm in the hospital, and though she’d never been to it before there was an aching familiarity to the place. Every hospital was the same in the little details. Smells and sounds and linoleum under foot.

The training took over and that ability to sleep even standing drifted into place. Arizona’s eyes closed and when they opened again she was groggy and a woman was helping her into a wheelchair. 

“We need to get your shoulder checked out before we set it,” she explained.

They wheeled her into a room and quietly x-rayed her. Beyond the door she could hear some nurses and doctors laughing. Life was moving on. Continuing apace as though Arizona’s own world hadn’t been beaten down in the last twenty-four hours. The earth spun on its axis and doctors and nurses remained immune to the tragedy around them.

She closed her eyes again.

She opened them and they were preparing to set her arm. Sedatives and analgesics were being prepared. “Please, I need…” She needed her wits about her. She needed to find Callie and hold her and promise her it would be all right and she couldn’t do that sleeping in a hospital bed.

The doctor, an orthopedic surgeon, inferring Arizona’s request from some feeble motions and vague insinuations, leaned over. “It will hurt.”

“Just. Do it.”

The other woman considered the request a moment then motioned to an intern who braced Arizona. The surgeon put her hands on her. Waited. Arizona couldn’t even muster a cry of pain. Living with bone grinding against bone for a day had dulled her to it.

There was a quick motion and a sudden pop and new pain flared—bursting from her shoulder as a cry was ripped from her lips.

They gave her anti-inflammatories to help with swelling and insisted on at least a mild painkiller. She accepted it all with water and swallowed the pills fast. They scraped on their way down. She was dehydrated and exhausted and the simple effort of taking medicine was grueling. 

A nurse offered her fresh scrubs. They were a vibrant navy blue instead of the muddled and bruised looking ones she normally wore, and where her own scrubs were tailored for a woman’s physique the Boise scrubs were the more inexpensive unisex style and hung off her frame.

Finally she was left alone to catch her bearings. She leaned against the sink in the corner of the examination room and peered at herself in the mirror. She looked like hell. They’d cleaned up all her cuts and scrapes and bandaged them but her eyes were bright and startling against her pallid skin and the dark circles of exhaustion under her eyes. Her hair was dark and unwashed but the nurse had helped her pull it back into a bun with only a few sneaky locks of hair getting free.

She didn’t quite look like herself. The woman reflecting back at her wasn’t the one she’d last seen in the mirror. This was a woman who’d survived impossible odds. Who had lived when others died. This was who she was now: a refugee of a horror film surviving in the real world. 

 

####

No one spoke on the plane. The shock was still too fresh. The disbelief too new to allow words to intervene. They sat in seats much like those their loved ones had been in and counted down the minutes until they landed in Boise. A SUV, the one that had been intended for their surgical team a day earlier, waited for them at the airport. They all piled in, still in silence, and waited out that last trip to the hospital.

It was the longest Mark could remember going without talking. He wasn’t ever a **chatty** guy but he didn’t like to sit in silence if he didn’t have to. Except for that one long trip with Grey, Webber, Hunt and Amelia and her girlfriend.

Ellis was the first one out of the car when it came to a stop. A woman, Boise’s chief presumedly, was waiting for them. She tried to introduce herself but Ellis was having none of it and demanded to see her daughter. The rest of them followed close behind.

Most were in surgery still. Meredith Webber had been admitted and was currently resting. Her mother and father broke off from the group to see her. Amelia’s girlfriend started to follow but one sharp look from her sister’s mother stopped her.

The rest of them continued towards the OR—towards its waiting room.

They found Arizona standing all alone there. Other people sat in chairs and patiently waited for their own loved ones, but Arizona stood all alone in the middle of the room in scrubs a size too big and a black sling for her arm.

She turned at the noise of their approach, her hair flying with the sudden movement. Her lips tightened into a grimace and Mark’s legs moved faster than the rest of him. He ran. He ran and he caught her before a dam of emotion welling on her face could break. “I got you,” he murmured into her hair. It smelled of sweat and pine and blood and Mark was good. He didn’t cry. He wasn’t grossed out. He held his friend.

When Arizona had had a moment to collect herself she feebly pushed against his chest. He stepped back but cupped her face. To maintain contact he realized. He didn’t want to let go of his friend. To let her out of his sight for an instance.

“Erica’s dead.”

He knew. They’d learned when boarding the plane. Erica and the pilot had both succumbed to injuries. The others were in varying degrees of health, with Arizona apparently being the best off.

“And Addison. She’s not good.” She bit her lip to keep her voice from cracking. “And Callie…”

He interrupted. Her eyes were wet but she hadn’t yet cried and he knew—knew how she hated it. “They’ll be okay.”

“I was trying Mark. I broke up with Callie to protect her and now—“

He pulled her close again. Her free hand wrapped around his waist and her fingers dug into the muscles of his back.

Amelia and her girlfriend stopped just short of her. Each waiting. Mark chanced a glance behind him. Hunt stood just behind them—his jaw set like stone. He took a step away from them. Gave them distance.

“Have they told you anything,” Mark asked.

Arizona shook her head. “I haven’t talked to anyone since they put me in the sling.” She looked up, just then noticing their audience. “I’m sorry I don’t have more.”

“Derek was he—“

“How bad was Mer—“

“Callie—“

Amelia, Lexie and Owen all spoke at once. Arizona’s eyes drifted shut and Mark was sure that if he hadn’t been holding her she might have collapsed. But she opened her eyes again and gave a stilted story of survival. Mark held her tighter. It was easier then worrying. Addison was beyond the doors. Doctors would crack open her chest and pry her apart and sort through her organs like librarians cataloguing books. They’d find all the little cuts and nicks on her insides and seal them up and hopefully—hopefully the blood loss and lack of oxygenated blood wouldn’t have too long term an affect. 

And in another room doctors would lean over Derek’s arm with with loupes covering their eyes and lamps on their foreheads illuminating their way and they’d slice and dice and try to rebuild an arm and save the hand of one of the world’s best surgeons.

And while Boise’s best worked on Derek’s hand what would happen to Callie’s leg? Would they try to save it? Or just chop it off to give her a better chance at survival.

Mark needed to be in there. He caught Owen’s eyes—the resolve in the other man’s face. **They** needed to be in there.

 

####

They wouldn’t allow Owen to work on his own ex-wife. He was a better trauma surgeon—a better general surgeon—then any of the doctors in Boise. That wasn’t hubris on his part. It was fact. He ran Seattle Grace’s ER and these other doctors worked in **Boise**.

But they said no. They turned him away. It was “unethical.” Never mind he’d worked on dozens of friends in the field. Saved lives and lost them. He’d once been married to Callie so they said no.

But they didn’t turn Mark away when he offered his services on Derek’s hand. In fact they were delighted. And then Mark smiled behind his mask and said he’d need Owen’s help and suggested the two orthopedic surgeons, the best in the hospital, go save Callie’s leg instead—before some stupid resident got scared and chopped it off rather than attempt the more arduous task of saving it.

With instruments in hand and masks over their faces and pairs of general loupes, not built just for them, resting on their noses the two men looked up at each other. Appraised one another.

“You doing this surgery may have saved Callie’s leg.”

Sloan nodded, “I know. Why do you think I offered?”

Mark Sloan didn’t like Owen. He gave him looks and always seemed to find a way to leave the room when Owen entered. And he didn’t seem to crazy about Callie either. In his brief time at Seattle Grace he’d found a friend in Arizona and was loyal to her to the exclusion of nearly all others. “Because you and Derek used to be friends.”

“You know if they botched this their hospital would be forced to pay millions. They’d be ruined as surgeons. The men who destroyed Derek Shepherd’s multimillion dollar hands.” Sloan looked down at the mangled hand and arm. At tendons severed. He looked thoughtful. Not like the manwhore he was rumored to be. But like a real surgeon. A real adult. “But if I do it. Seattle Grace loses a doctor. My fiancé will probably leave me. And my best friend will never forgive me.”

As surgeons they had to learn to file away their emotions. To step into the surgical theater and be only the gods their patients needed. Emotional and financial fallout had to be far from their minds.

As a surgeon in the Army Owen had those lines worn down. Worn away until all that was left were raw nerves in the operating theater. Every patient became critical. Every loss monumental. He’d built himself back up slowly and he remembered all the little tricks he’d gained to do it. To be the god.

Sloan looked back up at Owen and his eyes crinkled with a grin behind his mask. “Good thing I’m a surgical god huh,” he asked coyly. 

Just like that Mark Sloan shut out all the noise of his life and set his ego down squarely in front of him like a shield.

“What’s it Dr. Shepherd always says,” Owen asked.

“It’s a good day to save lives.”

 

####

If she headed for the door and acted like she belonged it would take a minute for them to notice. Maybe longer. Unless they noticed her sling. The sling would be a dead give away that she didn’t belong.

But if she moved fast and confidently and didn’t allow exhaustion to color her movements Arizona was ninety percent she could make it through the doors and find her way to Callie. 

Somehow she’d convinced herself she didn’t need to be there. She’d left her and tried so hard to forget her. Her sighs and whispers and the way she looked at Arizona.

But now she just wanted… She needed to be there. Needed to watch them roll her out of surgery and walk with her bed to the ICU. She needed to sit at her bedside and hold her hand. And when she woke up Arizona needed to be there too.

She tensed the muscles in her thighs to stand. Felt every worn out fiber of her body protest. But before she could move Amelia was sliding into the chair next to hers. 

“Mark and Owen are working on Derek which freed up the ortho surgeons to work on your girlfriend,” she said. “No word on Addison. I offered my help too, but apparently a neurosurgeon isn’t needed at this stage.” She sounded bitter.

Arizona nodded.

Amelia’s hand lay lightly on Arizona’s thigh and her tone changed. “You need to rest.”

She shook her head. It got worse when people talked to her. When Mark or Amelia looked at her with empathetic eyes. The tears clawed to escape and she had to hold her whole insides tight. Rigid like a drum to keep anything from escaping.

“Arizona.”

“Do her parents know,” she said suddenly. “She—she really loves her dad I know. And they should know. And she’s got a sister. We should call them. We should call everyone’s parents. That’s what you do right? You call loved ones and family and you s—sit with them and hold their hands and—“

“You need to get sleep.” She smiled. “You’re rambling,” she said softly.

Arizona blinked. The world snapped back into place as easily as it drifted away from her. “I can’t sleep.”

Amelia pulled Arizona close and pressed wet lips to her forehead. Her hand curled around the back of Arizona’s head and she reached up to keep it there.

“She needs you to bring your A game Arizona.”

She closed her eyes. It was easier then looking at Amelia’s neck and following the line down her shirt. In the darkness Amelia could be anyone and the sensations her closeness provided could comfort Arizona.

“You need to sleep.”

The lips pressed against her ear.

“Please.”

It was easy to sleep. Easy to close her eyes and run away from the waking world. The siren song of slumber, with its promise of relief and oblivion was sweeter than any words.

But she could sleep later. She could sleep when Callie was there. Alive. And whole.

She pushed away and called out to Lexie, who watched them with some difficult to quantify expression. “Have you seen your sister?”

The pink haired librarian shook her head. “Ellis doesn’t want me there.”

This time it was easier to stand up. Muscles contracted and the will to move them was greater than the pain it invoked. “Come on. Let’s go find her.”

Still sitting Amelia looked up, “How are you supposed to get in there?”

Arizona had no idea. “I can’t sit. I can’t sleep. I can’t—I can’t breathe Amelia. I have to do something.”

She and Amelia had never communicated well. It was one of a myriad of reasons why they never worked. It wasn’t like they were on separate pages. They operated in entirely different books—overcoming their griefs and trauma in ways neither could understand.

But Amelia nodded. “I’ll stay here. If I hear anything…”

“Thank you.” To Lexie, “Let’s go find your sister.”

She and Callie couldn’t be reunited anytime soon, but maybe she could reunite one sister with another.

 

####

Owen found Robbins sitting just outside the ICU. Someone had given her a blanket which she’d wrapped all around herself and her chin was ducked into her chest. She was dozing.

He took off the scrub cap he’d been wearing and shoved it into the deep pockets of his scrubs. Six hours of standing on his feet preceded by nearly twenty four hours of fear for Callie’s life had sapped him of much of his strength but he wasn’t just going to sit around. Not when Robbins was sitting out there waiting. She could have been driven back to Seattle. Or flown back (though he suspected none of them would be going on a plane willingly anytime soon). Instead she’d waited.

He took the seat next to her and she shifted sleepily. One eye cracked open and when she realized who it was she pulled herself out of her nap. 

“Heard you and Grey nearly came to blows outside her daughter’s room.”

“She wouldn’t let us in,” she said gruffly.

“Grey doesn’t like being challenged.”

“I’m the only Carter Grant recipient her hospital’s ever had and I was just in a plane crash. I’m not really worried about her trying to fire me.”

Owen snorted. It was really sort of unbelievable. No one challenged Grey. No one. Sometimes people accidentally challenged her and were immediately fired for it. Actually confronting her? It was like professional suicide.

And Robbins didn’t care. “How is she?” She was more concerned with Callie.

“Alive.”

He thought she’d fallen asleep again. The lines around her eyes and mouth smoothed out so neatly. But it was relief wiping them away. Something like a smile cracked through the smooth mask. 

“The PE…”

“Resolved.”

“Her leg?”

That was the question mark wasn’t it? They’d manage to keep it intact, but the function was almost negligible. The rehab and the surgeries required to turn it into a real leg again were…exponential.

“They saved it…for now.”

She nodded and rubbed angrily at her eyes which were rimmed with red. It only made them bluer. 

They didn’t have anything else to talk about. There was nothing more to be said. Owen was tempted to walk away. To sit by Callie’s bedside and wait for her to wake or to call home and let his mom and Cristina know what had happened.

But he stayed seated. “Is there someone I should call,” he asked quietly.

Robbins brow furrowed in confusion.

“For you,” he elaborated.

“I’m fine.” Her voice only cracked a little at the statement.

“You could be back on your way to Seattle. Sleep in a real bed.”

She shook her head jerkily. “I can’t leave her.”

He studied the woman that had broken his ex-wife’s heart. She was deadly serious in her intent, but shaking with nervous energy. Not overtly. They weren’t tremors. Just a thrum of energy that kept her up and moving when most people would have collapsed. Adrenaline. Concern. Sheer stubbornness. Those were her fuels.

She didn’t want anything to do with Callie. She’d broken up with her in some fit of stubborn madness and Owen had wound up sitting in the kitchen of his old home with Callie as she paced—equal parts heartbroken and furious.

“She doesn’t want kids Owen. She just—what banged me for the experience?”

“I don’t think that’s why she did it,” he’d said—trying to stay awake despite the late hour.

“Then why? She said she loved me. She—she was **there** for me and one day it’s like ‘oh wait, she’s got kids and I hate them unless I’m cutting them open with awesome surgeon hands.’ What the hell is that?”

He’d wanted to point out it was a spot on Robbins impression, if a little shrill. Instead he’d said, “Maybe she’s just scared.”

That had deflated Callie. She’d sighed and leaned against the refrigerator. “I know she’s scared. The woman is terrified of being more than she is. It’s like she grew up and just,” she held her hand out flat, “plateaued. But that’s the point,” she pushed away from the fridge, “that’s why you date someone. That’s why you m—marry them. They help you not be scared.”

He still remembered his fingers, tight around her throat. The swift kick she delivered that cracked his rib. He’d never been right for her. Never helped her like that. And she hadn’t either. They’d been content in the plateau.

She’d darted for the door, slinging her purse over her shoulder and pulling her keys off the hook. “I should go after her.”

“Callie—“

“I should tell her. I shouldn’t just let her run away because she’s been struck by a stupid gene or something.”

He’d hopped up from the table and reached for her, “Don’t.”

“Why?”

“She needs time.”

“To get more stupid?”

“To miss you? She’ll miss you like crazy Callie. She’ll dream about you. Accidentally call you just to chat and hang up at the last minute. She’ll realize it was a mistake.”

“She already did! She practically **said** it when she broke up with me! All time’s gonna do is give her more chances to convince herself she did the right thing!”

“What would you have done if it was me?”

She’d jerked back from him—her dark eyes wide with confusion.

“If we were still—if we were together and I convinced myself it wasn’t working but you knew otherwise. What would you do?”

“Give you space,” she whispered.

“Give **her** space Callie. Let it sink in. A month from now she’ll be at your door.”

“What makes you so sure?”

Because he and Robbins were alike. Not in a lot of ways. Just in some fundamental ones. The woman he sat next to in the hospital was stronger in some respects. Her eyes weren’t haunted by what she’d experienced in the plane crash. She would never wake up in the middle of the night with her hands around Callie’s neck. But she would run. Like Owen. And she had a stubbornness that Owen couldn’t be envious of because it so mirrored his own. 

“She wanted to chase you that night you broke up with her,” he said.

Robbins looked up suddenly with wary eyes, but said nothing.

“I told her to wait. To let you come back. Callie’s still—she still loves you.”

Just the barest hint of reproach colored her words. “I know,” she said simply, “I still love her too.”

 

####

Waking up after surgery wasn’t like waking up from sleep. There was almost always this sense of rightness when waking up from sleep. Even when you woke up somewhere unexpected, like a one night stand’s bed or your grandmother’s couch. It still **made sense**. But waking up from surgery was confusing and disorienting. The ceiling wasn’t familiar. Nor was the bed. The absence of pain due to intense painkillers made it difficult to grasp reality. It was more like a dream. An existence without consequence.

Callie woke up and saw faces. Heard voices. But they were all so difficult to make sense of. Owen stood at the foot of a bed beyond what looked like a lot of metal. He looked sad. A doctor stood near monitors and smiled kindly at her. Downwards. Because she was laying down. Because she’d been in surgery.

Something warm seemed to flow up from her hand and her eyes moved from the doctor to Owen to where his own eyes were. To Arizona, who stood beside her bed with her hand wrapped up in her own.

She closed her eyes, too sleepy still to process it all.

She opened them again.

It was dark with only the lights of the monitor and the nurse’s station to illuminate shadowy corners of a hospital she didn’t know. The pain existed where it hadn’t before. A dull ache in her leg. A piece of her body she couldn’t bring herself to look at. She clinched her hands into fists to ward off the agony she knew would come.

But instead one hand curled tightly around that of another person. A slim hand. Not a man’s. She tilted her head and a smile appeared, unbidden.

Arizona was leaning forward, her bad arm propped on her thigh and her good one wrapped around Callie’s. Her head rested on the bed near Callie’s pelvis.

Not Owen. Or her father. Or someone else.

Arizona.

“You stayed.”

Arizona looked up. Her eyes were bruised from lack of sleep and red rimmed from tears and her skin was too pasty to be healthy. Blue eyes, surprisingly stark in the darkness blinked dreamily a moment. Arizona tried to say something but her voice was more ragged than Callie’s.

“You stayed,” she repeated.

Arizona’s smile in that moment seemed to touch upon every corner of joy. Goofy. Delighted. Stunning. Angelic. She was…she was the most beautiful person Callie had ever seen.

And she’d stayed.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back from work stuff. Woo. Let’s write lots of fanfic so we can get to some good and smutty stuff later yeeeeeah.

It was a parade that seemed to last for days even if in reality it only lasted that morning. The survivors of the plane crash were transported from Boise to Seattle, but none of them actually wanted to be on a plane (naturally) so they were all driven in ambulances.

According to the Google Maps on Cristina’s phone it was an eight hour drive, which meant the first ambulance, carrying a very irritated Meredith Grey and her mother, must have left before midnight the night before. Judging by Meredith’s scowl and her mother’s expression—caught somewhere between irritation and concern—it hadn’t been a pleasant trip.

Cristina affected her bedside voice and cheerily asked if she could escort Meredith to her room. Ellis started to object but Meredith, scowling like a surly fifteen year old said, “I’m fine Mother,” and the older woman backed away.

“When you’re done weeping over my daughter’s miraculous return Yang there’s a meeting of the cardiothoracic department in my office at nine.” That was the chief. If she’d been any more acerbic and professional she would have merged into some sort of terrifying super mother figure with Burke’s mother, towering over all who deign speak to their children without their permission.

She pushed Meredith through the hall. Should she be her normal self? Or did she need to walk on egg shells around the other woman? Everyone handled trauma differently and Meredith was Cristina’s only real friend and she didn’t want to blow that with being too—fuck it. “How’s your leg?”

“Nothing a whole mess of stitches didn’t cure.”

“And your mother.”

“She **stared** the whole way from Boise. I fell asleep twice and when I woke up she was just sort of—peering at me.”

“Creepy.”

“Right?”

“I told Owen I’d help raise his kids if Callie bit it.”

Meredith twisted in her chair to look up at Cristina. “Seriously?”

“Seriously. And then he left.”

“You’re off the hook for now. Though they could be calling on you to teach the kids to roller skate.”

She had no idea what that meant.

“Torres’s leg was broken—like bone through skin—broken. Lexie said they discussed just amputating but then opted to put her through a million surgeries instead.”

“Torres is a cardio fellow with three kids. How is being off her feet for half a year going to work?”

Meredith shrugged. “No idea. I mean, they could still amputate. But between your boyfriend and her girlfriend that’ll be a cold day in hell.”

“How about your dreamy teflon man?”

Meredith’s face darkened in offense but relaxed quickly afterwards. “Sloan and Owen worked on his hand. They want to do a consult with ortho here but…a few months of physical therapy and he could be—“

“Back to cutting open brains and staring at you longingly over them.”

Meredith agreed quietly. They stepped onto the elevator and between floors Cristina stepped around Meredith and hit the hold button. “Do you need to cry,” she asked, seriously, but with an edge of chastisement.

Meredith inhaled shakily.

“Because this is a safe space. You can cry in here and no one is going to see it and report back to your mother.”

“Did **you** cry?”

She hadn’t. Part of her had wanted to. In a matter of months Meredith Grey had gone from nemesis to her best friend. Cristina wasn’t one of those girls. She didn’t cry and she didn’t get worried about people. She was a hardcore surgeon and a professional. But with Meredith out in the middle of the forest and completely lost she’d felt lost herself. Abandoned in a way she hadn’t been able to fathom for years.

It wasn’t Burke leaving her at the altar. It was something so much worse.

“I didn’t,” she said softly.

Meredith reached up and grabbed her hand. Izzie or George would have said something then. Let words elaborate on emotions that were so very evident. Mer was better than that. She could be content with the silence.

 

####

Callie struggled with consciousness through the entire eight hour drive back to Seattle. Between painkillers and exhaustion it didn’t work out well. She slept deeply and dozed haphazardly and Arizona, not Owen, sat with her the entire time. She had no idea **how** Arizona had gotten herself into the ambulance but just as it had been about to leave there’d been a pounding on the rear doors. Owen had hopped out and then Arizona had hopped in and sat quietly next to Callie. 

She never slept and whenever Callie could muster the strength to open her eyes she found Arizona sleepily watching her with a dreamy expression on her face.

“Your cute,” she’d mumble, and Arizona’s smile would get a little bigger before she’d lean over and kiss Callie’s forehead.

“Get some sleep.”

“You first.”

It never happened.

They arrived back in Seattle and upon reaching the hospital Callie was immediately whisked off for more scans of her leg. Then she was deposited in a room with a TV that had been tuned to a kid’s channel full of cartoons. She fell asleep and dreamt that she was lying in a beautifully painted field and crudely drawn fairy versions of her parents were floating around sprinkling sparkles while Arizona and Owen made out and her children watched from within a jar—which they’d been shrunk down to fit into—and cried.

When she woke from that bizarreness she found Arizona curled up in a large chair that looked like it had been moved from one of the doctor’s lounges. The glow of a black and white movie smoothed out all the lines of her face and even made the bruises and cuts look less severe.

She’d changed from the loaner scrubs she’d acquired in Boise and had put on her own clothes. Pants that looks suspiciously like stretchy skinny jeans and a big sweater with just enough form to it to keep from punching up around the arm still in a sling. Her hair was still pulled back and a streak of it was a copper color from dried blood.

Callie had only woken up beside Arizona a few times. She’d never watched her sleep, because that was creepy. She was accustomed to her hair down and straight around her, not bunched up and away with little frazzled whisps breaking clear from the rest.

She didn’t look so professional. Just—Callie’s heart thumped in her chest—Arizona just looked natural. As though she belonged. Familiar to the point that Callie wanted to reach out and touch her.

The emotion was overwhelming and her monitors blooped erratically in response.

She didn’t believe in love at first sight. She didn’t believe in love without foundation. She’d tried love based on sex and she’d tried it based on friendship and it had all been off just a fraction—which grew exponentially until her heart was broken or Owen’s hands were wrapped around her neck.

Arizona, dressed causally and sleeping in a chair, spawned some entirely other feeling in her. She was right. Callie was often plagued by anxiety. It churned her up and walked all over her never allowing a moment’s rest and with Arizona it had been consuming. Only by blindly moving forward and closing herself off to the worry had she been able to pull through. And it had deadened her a little. Refusing to feel the anxiety had pushed away so much else and left only a shell of a woman who fell in love for no real reason beyond a desire to **need** love.

“Arizona.”

She had to tell her.

“Arizona.”

The other woman stirred in her sleep but didn’t wake up. Little frown lines sprung up around her eyes. Callie would have just gone to her but her leg was trussed up in a brace that hard screws actually **through** her leg and so sore she half wanted it gone just to alleviate the pain. She sat up, grimaced, and then pulled one of the pillows she’d been resting on out.

One more time. “Arizona!” It wasn’t a shout, because she didn’t believe in shouting when it was getting dark outside and everything was so quiet. Arizona didn’t budge. Well. She’d warned her. She flung the pillow at Arizona’s head. It struck her face with a satisfying whoomph and she jerked up out of the chair clutching it in her hand and ready to beat someone to death.

Callie held her empty hands up in surrender.

“Callie?”

“You wouldn’t wake up.”

Arizona dropped the pillow into the chair and sort of dash/shuffled over to the bed. “Is everything okay? Are you okay? Was the pain—do I need to call someone? Or prescribe something? Or—“

“I’m good.”

Arizona still looked deeply confused.

“I **am** ,” she assured her, a little humor inflecting the statement. “I just—“ Arizona ducked her head to maintain eye contact as Callie involuntarily looked down—suddenly feeling bashful. “I realized I want to date you.”

That didn’t help. Arizona actually looked up and somewhere to the left as she tried to sort that out.

“I want to take you to dinner and or just sit on the couch and talk you know? I want to be with you and not because of some weird head stuff but because I actually **like** you.”

“Okay…” That perfect smile flashed and Arizona leaned on the bed with her good hand. “Did you really just hit me with a pillow to say you want to date me?”

“We nearly died after dating a month. We deserve more than that.”

“I agree.”

“Why are you smiling like I’m a goofball then?”

Arizona darted in and kissed her on the cheek, “Because you’re high as a kite.” That would explain the laconic feeling. “But it’s okay.” She kissed her again. Her lips were wet against Callie’s cheek. “I wanna date you too.”

“We’re gonna be magic.” 

So stoned.

“We’re gonna be awesome.”

 

####

Lexie sat cross-legged on the bed and watched her friend—girlfriend?—pace. They’d flown back to Seattle and they’d gone to the hospital and sat with groggy loved ones and now they were back in the apartment Amelia shared with Arizona Robbins.

“She treated you like dirt.” 

Amelia was livid over Lexie’s interactions with Ellis Grey. The woman only chose to acknowledge Lexie when she absolutely had to and her form of acknowledgement was cutting and abrasive.

Lexie was used to it. Her dad’s last years had been fueled by fury and alcohol and he’d said far worse than anything Ellis, who didn’t even know her, could muster.

“Did you see the part where she tried to blame the plane crash on me?”

“She was acting like you’re just some—some—“ Either Amelia was having trouble using the English language or she was trying to avoid saying it—

“Alcoholic drug addict with a pacemaker.”

“But you’re not,” she countered.

“I am. I’ve got a little metal thing in my chest to prove it. That’s okay Amelia.” She uncrossed her legs and leaned back on her elbows. “I made shitty decisions for a big chunk of my life. If Ellis Grey wants to judge me for that I’m not going to stop her.”

“Your mother died and your father was a **miserable** bastard that that woman half put in the grave. She doesn’t get to judge you. Ever.”

She growled like she actually meant it. Like she really believed it wasn’t Ellis’s place to judge Lexie. It was a protectiveness that Lexie wasn’t accustomed to. One that had flared up in Meredith when she forced Lexie to come along to dinner with her parents and it didn’t turn out well and just as it had surprised her then it surprised her in Amelia’s bedroom.

The surprise must have softened her features because Amelia paused mid-anger pacing and looked at her curiously. “Are you okay?”

“I love you.”

The words slipped out and both women’s eyes widened in surprise.

“I mean—I—“ She hopped up. Started towards Amelia, who backed away on impulse. “Sorry. I just. Like a friend. I love you like a friend. Who I sleep with. Sometimes.” She frowned. “I—you’re my best friend Amelia. And outside of Meredith you’re about the only person who I can talk to who doesn’t make comments about my hair or piercings or tattoos and just—just treats me like an honest to God adult. And you’re protective! And sweet. And I love you for it. I love you for being a friend. My friend.”

Amelia blinked.

“And I’ve now terrified my one non-hospitalized friend. Good job Lexie. I do this you know. It’s why I got into cocaine. Then the rants were drug fueled and not just crazy—“

Amelia crossed the room in through paces and crashed into Lexie. She pulled her close—curling into Lexie’s body and crushing her against her. Her lips pressed against Lexie’s were at once erotic and comforting.

“Shut up,” she whispered into Lexie’s mouth.

“You don’t like my prolixity,” she asked between scorching kisses.

Amelia leaned back with a cute surprised look on her face.

“Cristina gave me a word a day calendar. With the eidetic memory it kind of makes me awesome with the big words.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard that one used in an actual conversation.”

“I was going to go with pleonasm but I’m pretty sure that one’s not supposed to be used when describing a character trait.”

“You’re trying to distract me from being pissed at Grey aren’t you.”

She murmured a positive and gently kissed Amelia’s neck. “It’s working too isn’t it?”

“A little.”

“Though,” she pulled back this time, “I guess we should talk about it more.”

“And not just have crazy and verbose sex?”

“Because you’re only pissed at Grey because it’s easier then being pissed at your brother.”

“Also she was the worst to you.”

Lexie nodded. “Definitely. Officially the worst.” Officially. How someone as kind and gentle as Meredith Webber could have come out of that woman’s vagina boggled Lexie’s brain. There were dead Godwin related tyrants who were probably nicer. And Lexie was an eighth Jewish on her mom’s side.

Grey had told Lexie that she was neither welcomed or permitted into Meredith’s room. It had been cutting, but hardly permanent. When Meredith was awake and had her cellphone (smuggled in courtesy of Cristina Yang) she’d rescind the banishment and Lexie would be able to see her sister and know she was safe.

Amelia’s brother though. He’d been in surgery for hours in Boise and when Amelia had finally gone to him he’d turned away and told her he was fine.

He wasn’t. His hand would require more surgeries and months of rehab and he had been pallid, dirty, exhausted, and thinner than should have been possible after only a day.

His jaw, dark with stubble, had been set, and his eyes had been surprisingly flinty. He hadn’t acknowledged. Hadn’t said anything.

“You should call your mom. Or one of your sisters. Let them know—“

“That Derek and Addison are in the hospital barely alive? That I was sleeping with my best friend when they crashed? They don’t even know I’m living here! They think I’m in California saving baby brains or something.”

“They don’t know you took a…” Privately Lexie called it Amelia’s “sabbatical.” Amelia avoided calling it that. Largely because she avoided talking about surgery at all. If it wasn’t about a procedure her ex-sister-in-law or brother were doing then she didn’t care.

“They don’t.”

“Amelia…”

She smiled suddenly. Amelia had a way of smiling that soothed the soul. Even when her eyes were wet with tears and she was a little shaky with nerves she could shoot Lexie a cocky grin that made her feel safe. It was so different from Meredith, who always seemed a little uncomfortable in a smile, or Cristina, who had a smile darker than the Devil’s.

“I guess I could always get privileges at Seattle. Then when my mom showed up to thump Mark and worry over Derek and Addison I’d avoid the whole ‘why aren’t you working’ question.”

Lexie was taken aback, “You’re really more concerned with explaining your job situation?”

“My mother was a military nurse. She was basically Hot Lips on MASH. So yeah, job situations have to be sorted before I call her saying I’m living with my ex-lesbian hook up across the hall from my ex-sister and her bastard baby daddy and avoiding a brother who very well may never perform surgery again.”

“And with **that** speech you can never tease my prolixity again.”

“Just your use of the word prolixity to begin with.”

 

####

She spent the whole day at the hospital and had been planning to spend the night there too when Teddy Altman, of all people slipped into the room.

“You’re still here,” she asked.

“I was just—wait what are you doing here?”

The cardio surgeon held up Callie’s chart. “Checking in on that pulmonary embolism. Shouldn’t you be in a bed. Sleeping?”

Arizona rubbed at her face and tried to fight a fatigue she’d lived with for so long it was like it was becoming a part of her. “I should, but I didn’t want to…”

She didn’t know Altman very well. They’d worked a few cases and she seemed nice enough but eager; exuberant and wide eyed despite being an Army surgeon. It was an odd disconnect too disparate for Arizona to have the time or inclination to reconcile. So she didn’t quite understand the look Altman gave her.

“She’s going to be out until morning probably and she’s going to be in this room, or one very much like it, for at least three weeks. If I were you I’d use this opportunity to get rest, because it’s the only chance you’ll get for months.”

Arizona didn’t know how to respond to that.

“Or we can get a cot in here for you and she can wake up looking at that hair—which maybe it’s a little forward of me for saying it—but it looks awful. Like you’re about two steps short of dreads in the back and I’m pretty sure if you tried to take it out of the ponytail it’d stay in place.”

“I have a cut on my scalp. Can’t wash my hair for another day or it’ll just start bleeding again.” The excuse sounded weaker than it should have.

“You could try a hat. Or some braids.” Teddy motioned to her own hair, still in braids after surgery.

Arizona raised her slinged arm a hair as evidence and immediately regretted the decision. The joint creaked in protest and pain flared up.

Teddy winced in sympathy. “Right. You’re a little gimpy aren’t you?”

“I’m not going back into the OR anytime soon.”

Teddy had taken a deep breath then, “I’ll watch her.” She said it so seriously. Less assurance and more an oath. “I’m on the night shift tonight anyways. Stuck in my new office.”

Because Erica had died and Grey had wasted no time promoting the new attending to a position Callie had held only months earlier.

They stared at one another, mutual grief an easy thing to share in silence—even with an acquaintance.

After ringing a promise to call out of Teddy Arizona had made the trek home. Okay. Not a trek. She lived across the street. But her whole body ached and every step seemed a struggle.

She nearly fell asleep in the elevator on the way up and took solace in the hallway when she saw the dark shadow under Mark’s door. He was likely still at the hospital looking over Addison and Derek and holding his daughter to his chest. Which meant he couldn’t be hovering over her.

It took her three tries to fit the key into the lock for her door. Finally it snicked into place and turned and she walked in.

And there was sex. 

Sex in her apartment.

She couldn’t smell it because, gross. But she could hear it. Or Amelia. She could hear Amelia. And also bed springs. The cheap mattress she’d picked up for guests sounded like an ancient car trying to start. It wasn’t squeaky but growly. Like that old Chevy of her dad’s.

Ew.

“I’m home,” she called out.

The noise abated.

Someone fell out of the bed. There was harsh whispers.

Arizona went to the kitchen and pulled out a container of yoghurt. She hadn’t eaten much in the last two days but between shock, nerves and pain she didn’t really plan on eating much in the near future either. The yoghurt was just right though. Tangy and smooth on her tongue. It filled her up more than the jello and carrots she’d picked up in the cafeteria while Callie was sleeping.

The door to Amelia’s bedroom opened violently and she stumbled up wrapped up in a very sexy robe. Arizona raised an eyebrow and Amelia blushed and pulled the cord tight around her waist.

“How’s Callie,” Amelia asked conversationally.

“Sleeping. Who’s your friend?”

Amelia bit her lip. 

Uh oh.

“Lexie.”

Oh. Wait. Seriously? “Huh, I never would have pegged her for bicurious.”

“Right?”

“So you two are, what? Processing your shock and grief?”

“Grey was a real ass to her today and—“

“And you thought you’d sleep with her.”

“Actually this started before the crash.”

“Oh.” Arizona finished her yoghurt and tossed the empty container into the trash. Something about Amelia’s new relationship irritated her and she couldn’t quite figure out what. It couldn’t be jealousy. At least of Lexie **being** with Amelia. Maybe it was something else. Like how they were both healthy and relatively happy and banging each other’s brains out while Arizona was sort of single sort of not and stuck in a sling.

“Are you freaking out?”

She sighed. “Honestly? I don’t have the energy to.”

“So it’s not weird?”

“Why because you’re both women? No. Because you’re both addicts, met in AA and probably don’t need to be embarking on major emotional relationships this early in your recovery? Yeah. I find that a little weird.”

Amelia rolled her eyes.

“And you clearly don’t. So tomorrow. We’ll talk about it tomorrow and you can go over all the reasons why it will definitely work out between you two.”

“I don’t know what it is, but it will work.”

“I hope it does,” Arizona said simply.

She flicked off the lights in the kitchen so that only the light from Amelia’s room illuminated the space. Backlit by the light and in the shimmery robe Amelia still looked lost. Her face was only shadows but the exuberance with which she’d bound out of her room was gone—leaving only a deflated woman.

Arizona shook her head and went to her own room. The scrubs she’d borrowed from Boise lay pooled up at the foot of her bed and she added the clothes she was wearing to them.

She collapsed onto her comforter in only her underwear. The fabric beneath her was cool and clean with a smell that overwhelmed the scents she knew she was exuding. She’d wash it later. Days later. When she woke up again.

So close. Sleep was reaching out for her. The walls of the room grew closer together. The shadows darker. The air just cool enough to keep her from being too warm. She felt almost giddy falling to sleep. Wrapped up in a blanket of respite.

“Really? You’re going to go on about the “program” and judge me and then just go to bed?”

Amelia was suddenly in her room yelling. She’d turned on the lights and hadn’t even blinked at Arizona’s state of undress. Arizona had to put all her weight on her good arm to sit up a little. 

“Amelia I’m trying to sleep—“

“So was I! Sort of. Not the point. What you just did in the kitchen wasn’t cool.”

“Neither is sleeping with another addict when neither one of you have been clean six months.”

“I’m stable.”

“Clearly. Because you’re in my room yelling at me while I’m injured and in my underwear.”

“Nice panties by the way. New?”

“Yeah. I picked them up two weeks ago—would you get out!”

Amelia came closer. She toned the abrasiveness down. “I need you to be supportive.”

“And I want to be. But don’t ask me to ignore this either. What happens if you guys break up? What happens if all this stuff with the plane crash takes its toll? What then? I can’t come home to you high.”

“I won’t.” Amelia was an addict and as such had a singular talent for lying. It was in an addict’s nature to lie. To smile and act sober while reeling from the effects of drugs and alcohol.

Living with an addict Arizona had to learn to read the signs. To see past the lies. She was never particularly adept at reading people. She was always half a second behind with the jokes—just a moment out of sync with others. But she’d worked at it with Amelia.

“Are you high?” It made sense. The bravado. She **was** hiding something.

“What? No!”

“You’re lying to me. Or omitting something and Amelia I don’t—“

“I’m going back to work.”

That was unexpected. 

“Grey needs surgeons right now. Good surgeons. So I’m going to make her hire me. At least until Derek gets better.”

It should have been great news, but compounded with her new relationship—“Are you sure? That’s a lot of stress. And with Lexie. What happens if something goes wrong?”

Amelia wasn’t urgent with her response. She was relaxed. “You know when I heard about your crash all I wanted to do was get high? But Lexie makes me want to stay sober.”

And that was the truth. It was…nice. Seeing people like Amelia and Mark Sloan figuring their lives out. It made her think that maybe she and Callie had a chance, even excluding Callie’s stoned confession earlier.

“I’m happy for you.” She smiled. Amelia smiled too. It was a warm and healthy moment after two days of horror and emotional ones. “Now,” she said, still smiling, “get the hell out of my room and let me sleep.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve no idea why this took so long to write as it’s easily my favorite chapter of this fic so far.

Owen was a trauma surgeon. He had trained to work under intense pressure. He saved lives. He was an Army officer. He learned how to kill with an M4 and he could use the hood of a blown-out Humvee as a surgery table. He did not quake in his boots when confronted with authority. He thrived in challenging it and operating beneath it.

But Carlos Torres wasn’t just an authority figure. He had the air of one. The wealth. The power. But he was the father of Owen’s ex-wife and that fundamentally altered their interactions.

“He knows about the divorce.”

Callie had said it in a low tone when Owen came to check on her.

“Who?”

“Daddy.”

Owen tried to speak but words were hard. How did he know? “Did you tell him,” he sputtered out.

She looked offended, “I didn’t tell him anything. Did you?”

Why would he **volunteer** information to Carlos Torres?

Then it hit him. Around the same time it hit her. 

“Your mother.”

His mother. 

She’d mentioned it when he’d come home exhausted. She’d taken it upon herself to call and tell them that Callie was okay.

Apparently she’d mentioned something else as well.  

“Is he…coming here?” He had to drop his voice even lower to keep anyone out in the hallway from hearing.

She maintained the low volume but her whisper was harsh. “I was in a plane crash and am bed ridden. Of course he’s coming here!”

He paled. 

The rustling of a paper bag heralded Robbin’s entry. She was carrying a bag full of what looked like donuts and coffee. Callie’s concern about her dad disappeared behind a bright smile for her…whatever she and Robbins were.

She really shouldn’t not so subtly smuggling in donuts. Callie was fighting infections and healing and didn’t need the blood sugar surge the donuts would bring.

It wasn’t his business though. They were grown women with likes independent of his and his children. If they wanted to flirt and eat illegal donuts then that was their prerogative.

Two days later whatever was happening between Callie and Arizona was still none of his business. And Carlos Torres was taking a swing at his face.

 

####

Owen ducked his head and ran out of the room like the donuts Arizona had in her bag were going to add inches to his waist just by him smelling them. She could sort of understand. They were high calorie behemoths she usually avoided herself. 

But Callie had been laid up for four days already and spent each day dazed and nauseous from meds. She’d texted Arizona with a plea for pastries including the word “STARVING” in capital letters. She was a little suspicious. Fatty fried donuts plus Callie’s meds weren’t a recipe for health, but Callie had texted **her** , a fellow doctor. A sort of girlfriend. She wasn’t just going to ignore the plea.

Unlike Owen who’d fled the room with terror in his eyes. “All right, I’m used to grumpy Owen, but terrified Owen is kind of new.”

“My dad’s coming to town. He’s freaking out.”

“Wait…why exactly would your dad terrify Owen?”

Callie ripped the bag open and pulled out a donut. “You really shouldn’t bring me these. That ex of yours breaking all my bones will be pissed.”

“It’s got jelly in it so we hit two food groups. Seriously. Why is Owen terrified of your dad?”

“I don’t know,” she said around a mouth full of donut, “Daddy’s always made guys I date nervous.”

A giant Danny Trejo looking man appeared in Arizona’s brain. With long and luxurious hair and rippling muscles and a scowl that could strip barnacles from the sides of ships.

Callie watched her with childlike curiosity and continued to munch on her donut.

“Does he know—“

“That Owen and I are divorced? Apparently. One last gift from my ex-mother-in-law,” she said sourly.

It was incredibly adorable that Callie would go there and completely forget. A lot of women struggled with their sexuality. They never ever forgot it. When watching movies or going out dancing or even just reading a book, their sexuality was on the forefront of their minds. But not Callie. She’d struggled briefly, decided she was bisexual and promptly forgot that it was even an issue—that it could even **be** an issue.

“That you’re gay,” Arizona clarified.

Callie stopped chewing.

“So no.” She wasn’t really offended. They’d only dated a month. She hadn’t officially come out until her senior year of high school and that was after two girlfriends and hookups with bicurious cheerleaders and one very flexible volleyball player. And even then her coming out was only to Tim and Nick. She didn’t make it official with her parents until right before she started college and her grandmother didn’t find out until two years into **medical** school.

“It hasn’t come out—up,” Callie said carefully.

Arizona reached into the bag and pulled out a bear claw bigger than her face. “Are you going to tell him?” She tried to sound as evenhanded as possible. Which meant she had to avoid eye contact because otherwise Callie would see just how curious she was and her own feelings would affect a very private process for Callie.

“Should I?”

Okay. She had to look up. Callie sounded so young—not like the resolute doctor but more like one of those teens Arizona had discovered her own sexuality with. She wasn’t asking as an equal looking for input, but as someone inexperienced asking someone experienced.

“Callie…” What could she say? What did she **have the right** to say? It wasn’t her life and they weren’t…their relationship was new and fragile. Held together by warm thoughts and tragedy. “I can’t tell you what to do.”

Callie stared at her long and hard before deflating just a bit. “I know. It’s up to me right?”

“You could always get Owen’s mom to tell him.”

That earned an eye roll. “I’m surprised she hasn’t already.”

“It was nice though… That she called your parents?”

“It **sounds** nice, but she probably did it just to rub it in my mom’s face.”

Arizona took a bite of her bear claw. Warm apple filling flooded her mouth. Mouth still a little full she asked, “They don’t get along?”

“They **hate** each other. Owen’s mom was delighted that we had a shotgun wedding. My mother was positive we’d committed ourselves to purgatory for having sex before marriage.”

“Religious.”

“She’s a big fancy lawyer with big fancy clients and friends in Eleventh Circuit and Owen’s mother is one of those salt of the earth types whose sole joy in life is tearing down people who name drop things **like** the Eleventh Circuit. Thanksgiving is the two of them making snide comments until someone throws the mashed potatoes at someone else’s head.”

Arizona tried to picture her own mother interacting with the two women. She was the stay at home mom who made Rice Krispie Treats and Kool-Aid and always brought orange slices to soccer practice. She sewed. Yes, she could descale a fish better than most fishermen and take a buck out with a single shot, but she wore house dresses and claimed to have aspired to be Donna Reed when she was young.

“That sounds…fun.”

Callie frowned. “Well, look who I’m talking to. Your Thanksgivings are probably like some adorable sitcom where everyone wears sweaters and plays touch football in the forest before eating a giant turkey and watching the game.”

“Actually, I haven’t been home for Thanksgiving in about six years.” It came off smug though she hadn’t meant it to.

“Really?”

She nodded. She’d gone to the few after Tim died but then work had picked up and she’d thankfully found herself busy when it came time to buy tickets home. Thanksgiving was them on the couch foot wrestling and watching TV marathons. Bogarting the TV so their dad couldn’t watch the game. It wasn’t sitting at the table and desperately avoiding any discussion of Tim with inane conversations about politics and the weather.

“So what do you do?”

“Some of the younger cyclists do a group ride for Thanksgiving. If I’m not working I go to that. We end up at Kerry Park with bottles of wine in paper bags and turkey sandwiches from Bakeman’s.”

“Why don’t you go home?”

“My parents travel usually. Now. We tried doing Thanksgiving all together but it was just easier doing it apart. They visit friends and I do my own thing.”

Callie looked like she was trying to figure Arizona out. Crack some secret code she seemed to think Arizona was speaking. It occurred to her that she never talked about Tim. In fact she avoided the conversation all together. With Callie. Even Mark. She thought about him, but she rarely talked about him.

“Because of your brother?”

She looked up sharply.

“The first time you slept in my bed you told me he’d died.”

“Afghanistan.”

It had been eight years. She always forgot it had been so long. She could close her eyes and see him in her head. Hear his voice, deeper than hers. He used to do impressions of their mother’s southern twang and she could always hear it crystal clear when she wanted to.

But it had been eight years. One day maybe she wouldn’t hear it so well. One day it might be like Erica Hahn’s sardonic intonation. Already nearly lost to memory after a few days.

Callie winced loudly as she twisted out of bed to grasp Arizona’s hand. “Hey.” 

The peaked look of suppressed pain coupled with her surprisingly tender tone pulled Arizona out of the hole she’d very nearly spiraled into. She moved forward in her chair to support Callie’s arms and keep her from moving any further. “Careful. I don’t think you’re supposed to be moving with that frame on your leg.”

“I like putting myself into painful positions to get the attention of cute doctors.” 

Arizona glanced down at Callie’s leg. It was swollen to a few sizes more than its normal size, eradicating any shapeliness she knew to be inherent to the limb. The external fixators stuck out of it making it look like an extra piece of Frankenstein’s monster.

“How’s it feel?”

“Better before the jelly filled donut. I don’t think that worked to well with my meds.” She burped and rubbed at her chest. “I just hope when it decides to make a return visit it’s when Owen’s mom brings the kids by. Vomit. All over her face.”

“Aren’t you worried about splashback on the kids.”

“They’re fast. And that woman deserves it. Telling my parents Owen and I split up. The only reason they don’t know about **you** is because he’s probably paying her off.”

Or because Owen’s apparently hard nosed mother had appeared to take Callie’s sexuality and stride and didn’t see it as a big deal…hopefully. 

“Or she secretly likes me,” she amended after another burp.

She winked, “She’s not the only one.”

“Smooth.”

“I try.” 

 

####

Lexie wasn’t going to stand outside Ellis Grey’s office and wait. Mainly because Ellis Grey terrified her more than that one coke dealer who used to tell her she had nice skin. Also because she really had to actually be **in** the library if she wanted to keep her job and Phyllis would definitely write her up if she wasn’t there.

So she filed things. And waited. Amelia would find her and tell her how things went. They’d discuss it over soup. Or sandwiches. Maybe juice boxes. Amelia said her juice boxes were adorable.

Karev, who she liked to call the Almost Brother in her head and never to his face, materialized in the stacks next to her with a cruller. He held it out in entreaty like a worshiper in some old painting.

“Are you trying to bribe me with pastries?”

“Dude.”

“I’m not violating federal law for you.” She would have thought, seeing as his ex-fiancee had just been released from the hospital, his department was a mess due to i’s two heads being in a plane crash and he had boards in a month that Karev would be busy doing anything but sucking up to her for files that she was never going to give him.

“This isn’t about the files.”

The cruller suddenly looked more appetizing. “So what do you want Alex?”

She was supposed to call him doctor, but he’d nearly married her sister before they’d ever met and he always stared at her boobs so he was downranked to first name.

“Dr. Grey kind of froze me out after, you know, and Robbins is busy making moon eyes at Torres so I’ve got no one to actually tell me how she is.”

“Meredith?”

He looked almost affronted, “Look, she and I are over and we have been for months, but I still **care** about her. So does April.”

April Kepner, who rivaled Dr. Percy for the most irritating residents to ever grace the library. “And you think a stale cruller is going to get me to give up information.”

“I just want to know if she’s okay,” he said very seriously, “That’s all.”

For a cocky chief resident that everyone outside of the Peds department hated Alex had an excellent wounded puppy look. It was why Robbins liked him. Dying cancer kids probably took notes when he used it.

She sighed, “She’s okay. She needed a ton of stitches and her mom made her stay in the hospital an extra day but she’s fine.”

“I just haven’t seen her.”

She sorted quickly through a stack of books on her cart and put one on the shelf. “That would be because she’s spending all her free time with Derek. Or Cristina. Studying for boards and writing on the living room wall. I mean yeah they tacked up paper before they started writing but that’s not the point. There was a very lovely piece I stole from a motor lodge in New Mexico on that wall and they took it down to scribble about theoretical dead children.”

Alex listened to her tirade with a dazed look on his face. Like he wasn’t listening but just pretending to listen. Then he ate the cruller.

“Hey!”

“Dude. You were talking forever. I got hungry.”

“But that was a bribery pastry. You were bribing me for details.”

“Should have taken the donut before you started blabbing.” He punctuated his snotty statement with a huge bite. “It’s good too,” he said. Flecks of donuts flew out of his mouth. “Dr. Robbins brought like two dozen to work today.”

“You really suck,” she sneered.

“Least I’m not a white chick with dreadlocks.”

An hour later Amelia found her outside taking a smoke break. “I heard someone threw a book at Alex Karev’s head.”

“He’s a jerk,” she grumbled, “and it was a journal.”

Amelia raised an eyebrow.

“He’s fine. How did your meeting go?”

“No one threw medical journals at residents’ heads.”

“And?”

She grinned slyly, like when she just finished teasing someone at AA, “She’s said yes.”

“Seriously?”

“It’s probation and she refuses to put me on contract for longer than three months but it’s privileges and a paycheck.”

Lexie tossed her cigarette into the flowers at her feet and squealed in a very girly manner before wrapping Amelia up in a warm and friendly hug that surly former addicts weren’t supposed to be capable of. “That’s amazing!”

“It’s a job,” Amelia said, reluctant to celebrate.

“At Seattle Grace, which I’m told is pretty awesome.”

“It’s like the West Coast version of Hopkins but better.”

She shook her, “See. Get excited!”

Amelia stepped away—still anything but excited. “I’ve got to tell Derek I’m taking his job for the foreseeable future.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. My brother could barely look at me **before** the crash.”

“But you’re doing it **for** him.”

She frowned, “No I’m not. I wish I was, but this is for me Lexie.” She took a step back into Lexie’s space. “I want to make a home here.”

Oh God. She was doing it for her. 

 

####

Daddy, as he was called in her head and in person, arrived at 8pm. The halls outside Callie’s room were unusually full that evening. As if the whole hospital knew her dad was coming and wanted to see the fireworks.

In reality it was no more than usual. She just knew the doctors standing outside her door. Arizona and Mark were still in their lab coats and leaning against the nurse’s station. Arizona had positioned herself so she could see directly into Callie’s room and when Mark wasn’t paying attention she’d direct her gaze to Callie and wink.

Teddy Altman was out there too. She’d apparently had a long surgery and was only getting to her evening rounds. And Owen was there because he’d dropped the kids off at his mother’s and wanted to be in the room when Callie’s dad arrived. 

Not to protect Callie or serve as a buffer, but to actually stand **behind** Callie in case her dad went for his throat. Which was likely.

Carlos Torres could be a fierce little man.

Owen had brought some charts in to give the impression of being at work. He jotted down something in one. “You going to introduce him to Robbins?” He tried to ask the question nonchalantly but Owen couldn’t do nonchalant if his life depended on it.

They had actually discussed it. Briefly. “We both thought it might be a little soon to introduce him to the girlfriend.”

His pen paused, “So you’re dating?”

The question used to make her nervous. Since the plane crash it just filled her up and made her warm. Even her gimpy leg didn’t hurt as much. “Yeah,” she smiled so wide it hurt, “we are.”

“And she’s not going to break up with you again because she suddenly noticed kids?”

She shrugged. Out in the hall Mark said something that made Arizona laugh. “She’s been here every day and she’s staying late tonight just to make sure things go well with Daddy.”

“Sitting by your bed is easy Callie.”

“Is it?”

Maybe it was. A good book or a fully charged tablet could make long hours by a bedside easy. But not if you cared. Watching a person in pain—being a sounding board and an object of ire? That wasn’t easy. And while Arizona could be fickle and apparently had issues with commitment Callie knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that she cared.

With the door open to Callie’s room she could see clear past Arizona at the nurse’s station to the public elevator at the end of the hall. So she was the first one to see her father. He looked good—if tired. He’d travelled all the way from Florida but his very expensive and tailored suit looked neatly pressed. He must have trimmed his beard on the way from the airport too as not a gray hair was out of place.

“Owen,” she said under her breath.

He looked up, saw his former father in law and quickly snapped his chart close. “He, uh, doesn’t look too happy.”

“He saw you.”

“I should run shouldn’t I?”

“Fast,” she said urgently. Her father was picking up speed and passed by Arizona, Mark and Teddy, none of whom knew what he looked like. So they weren’t prepared to stop him. “Run fast Owen.”

But it was too late. Daddy dropped his bag by Callie’s bed. “Hello sweetie,” he said pleasantly enough.

Owen, never attuned to Carlos Torres’s moods, relaxed.

“You,” he directed his attention to Owen, “cheated on my daughter.”

Maybe it was Army training. Or being a trauma surgeon. Or the father of three kids under five. Whatever it was it gave Owen incredible reflexes so when her father unloaded a punch she’d seen take out men nearly twice his size Owen danced away.

“Oh shit” could be heard out in the hallway. She expected a wealth of nurses and doctors to flood in and part them but the nurses all had heard rumors of Carlos Torres and of the three doctors in the hallway Teddy Altman was the only one either brave or dumb enough to act.

She dashed into the room and promptly put herself between Owen and Callie’s dad.

Which, on another day, would have been cause for a raised eyebrow. But as Callie was confined to her bed and watching things around her rapidly spin out of control she had to settle for filing it away for further thought and calling out to her father.

“I cheated too,” she cried.

He paused mid-swing and Altman flinched. Owen let himself relax just a hair.

She continued. “I slept with someone else. Happily. So we both cheated and we’re both… We’re seeing people. Good people and we’re happy. Right? Happy.”

Owen, who’d held his hands up in preparation for at least three rounds let his hands drop to his side. “The—person Callie’s seeing is really lovely.”

“You divorced my daughter after knocking her up. I really don’t care what **your** opinion on her love life is Owen.”

“Oookay,” she called out. “Can we all settle?”

“I tend to agree,” Teddy said. “Your—daughter?” Her father nodded. “Your daughter is currently on blood thinners and really doesn’t need a spike in blood pressure. As much as we’d all love to see you two duke it out,” she emphasized it with a quick one two shadow box combo.

“You’re not helping,” Owen countered.

“Neither of you are,” Callie said. She looked pointedly towards the door—which Owen quickly dragged Altman through—then back to her father with a weak smile. 

 

####

“What do you think they’re talking about in there?” Arizona had to wonder. It was her girlfriend in there all alone with a tiny father who’d taken a swing at an Army surgeon. 

Mark, on the other hand, didn’t have to wonder and didn’t care too. He examined his nails and shrugged. “I’m still trying to commit to memory the image of McArmy over there nearly getting laid out by a guy a foot shorter.”

“McArmy” heard the comment and stopped his conversation with Altman to defend himself. “Carlos Torres used to box.”

“Professionally?”

“No, but that’s because he was busy starting a hotel empire.”

Altman snorted. “What like the Hiltons?”

“Yeah.”

Oh.

Mark waved his hand, “Whatever. He’s still past sixty and your were ducking him like a chump. I’ve got residents who are more manly than that.”

“Me too,” Altman mused.

They all looked at her skeptically. For the last few years Cardiothoracics had been almost exclusively female. “Yang,” she explained.

Arizona and Mark both nodded while Owen opened his mouth to protest.

She continued, “Seriously. Yang would have ducked and popped him one.” She mimed the fight she’d plotted out in her head between Carlos Torres and Cristina Yang.

“Yeah,” Mark interjected, “but with like her elbow, or those tiny feet of hers. She’s **way** too hardcore a surgeon to use her hands.”

Arizona tried not to laugh, because doing so would definitely diminish Owen’s ego, but it was pretty funny. Altman, owing to nearly a decade of friendship with Owen didn’t both to hide her own amusement and laughed before clapping him on the back.

Owen, whom Arizona had grown accustomed to seeing as a surly and humorless PTSD victim, actually cracked a smile. She glanced over at Mark to see if he’d noticed the ease with which Altman and Owen interacted but he was too busy staring at Altman’s boobs. That was a lost cause. Their scrub tops were more tailored than at most hospitals, and cut lower, but still totally worthless for boob watching.

She surreptitiously swatted him in the stomach. “Ow,” he yelped, “what was that for?”

Motion in Callie’s room caught her attention and interrupted the conversation. Or, more to the point, a **lack** of motion. Callie was still in her bed and calmly, if passionately, explaining something.

All four doctors returned their focus to the drama in the room. “Do you think she’s telling him,” Arizona asked no one in particular.

“If she’s not an idiot,” Teddy commented.

“The smart thing would be to hide it until he leaves,” Owen said, “trust me. You don’t want Carlos Torres in your relationship.”

“What, he the one holding the shotgun at your wedding Hunt?” 

Mark could be such an asshole.

“Yes.”

Oh.

Callie was staring at Arizona, or Mark, who was standing directly behind her. No. Arizona. Mark was gross and bro-tastic and not worthy of the look Callie was giving her—definitely her.

“You’re smiling like an idiot,” Mark whispered in her ear.

She couldn’t help it. For the time being, at least, everything was all right. Yeah they weren’t going to be scrubbing in on surgeries any time soon, and they were both in pain and yeah Callie had months—years of rehab ahead of her, but it didn’t matter because they were together.

And Carlos Torres was staring at her.

What?

She glanced back at Callie, who was now looking a little panicked and saying something like “Daddy,” to the man that was now stalking towards the nurse’s desk.

Arizona froze.

Should she run? Should she stand tall? Should she really hope Carlos Torres drew the line at punching women with their arms in slings?

Wait. He wasn’t stalking towards her. His eyes were directed just past her shoulder. 

At Mark.

“Mark,” she said just quiet enough that the man charging towards them couldn’t hear, “he thinks you’re me.”

“What?”

“Run. Run for you life.”

“He’s not…” whatever he saw in Carlos Torres’s eyes convinced him that A: he did think Mark was Arizona and B: he wanted to punch him.

Mark Sloan wasn’t really athletic. He worked out because ladies loved washboard abs and shoulders at home on an Olympic gymnast. He hated cardio and the few times Arizona had dragged him along for a bike ride he’d moaned the whole way. But at that moment he turned tail and bolted and suddenly he was Michael Johnson in Atlanta.

“These are the paragons of masculine surgical prowess Seattle gives me,” Altman asked.

Arizona, now cast as the friend of the slut banging Callie, and not the actual slut banging Callie, smoothly intercepted Mr. Torres. Her voice was bright and cheery even if she had no idea what she was doing. Altman and Owen both watched in horrific fascination.

“Mr. Torres?” She went for full on McDreamy Robbins: the doctor that soothed sick two years olds **and** their parents. “Arizona Robbins. I’m your daughter’s—“ DON’T SAY GIRLFRIEND. “Friend.”

Behind Torres Owen and Altman both sighed in sympathetic relief.


	9. Chapter 9

She had babbled. Something about nerves, painkillers and her father all conflating into a big babbling episode where she’d revealed that she’d slept with someone while still married to Owen and then they’d broken up but they were back together since the crash and she was happy.

She’d made the mistake of looking up and seeing Arizona out in the hallway teasing Owen and she must have smiled because her father turned and realized that the object of her affection was just outside the room.

But as he thought she was still straight and as Mark Sloan was standing there oozing sexual confidence that must have been created in a lab her dad naturally thought **he** was the person sleeping with his baby girl.

The only good thing that came from the misunderstanding was the joy of seeing Mark Sloan spin on his heel and take off like an Olympic runner while the other three doctors, her father and two nurses watched.

He would **never** live that one down and she strongly suspected that she’d cling to the image until her dying day.

Arizona, trying to be that awesome girlfriend she claimed to be, had intercepted her father and turned him back towards Callie’s room. As he didn’t look like his earth had been shattered Callie assumed Arizona hadn’t revealed anything too salacious during her interception.

She heard her father ask about Arizona’s arm as they reentered the room.

“I was in the plane,” she said succinctly. 

“She saved my life,” Callie added and shot Arizona a chastising look over her dad’s shoulder. The woman had kept her warm, kept her hydrated and rescued her emotionally in a fashion Callie struggled to put into words.

Before Callie had harbored confusion over Arizona. How they’d fallen for one another and how easily Arizona had ended it. But after those long hours huddled in the shade of the wreckage Callie had managed to make sense of it, and of Arizona.

The woman had a streak of self-loathing buried deep inside that was virtually crippling. 

Her father turned to look at Arizona with something that approached awe. “Thank you,” he said. His voice didn’t crack, because he was Carlos Torres but for an instant Callie thought it might.

Arizona smiled dreamily. “I’m just glad she’s alive,” she said softly. She was looking directly at Callie when she said it. Looking at her like they were—were **married**.

Her dad didn’t catch it.

Arizona excused herself before all their longing looks could give them away. But she didn’t **really** excuse herself. She just went back out to the nurse’s station and took up residence on the computer there.

“I’m glad you have friends like her,” her father mused, “she actually cares about you. Unlike that ‘man’ you married.” She could hear the quotes around the word man. Her father didn’t even need air quotes.

“Daddy,” she didn’t really need to hear it. Her leg was starting to ache and she was feeling exhausted after a long day of being in pain…and being exhausted.

“You haven’t mentioned her before. Is your friendship…new?”

What he meant was were they like the characters of Speed and only bonding because of a trauma. “We’ve known each other a while. But she was there when things with Owen started to not work.”

By “there” she meant Arizona was in the middle of it doing her version of a sexy dance. Which was really just her being dashing and perfect all the time.

Oh wow. She just said sexy dance.

Her eyes wandered. Arizona was leaning in and perusing the screen. She squinted a little when she read and her lips pursed together like she was sucking on something sour. 

“Good. I’m glad you had someone. Unlike these men you’re seeing. Owen was bad enough, but that Mark Sloan didn’t even **try** to fight.”

“He’s a surgeon Daddy. We have million dollar hands. We’re not supposed to use them to deflect **your** punches **.”**

Arizona glanced up. Saw Callie. With her good hand she pointed at Callie’s dad and mouthed, “Pay attention.”

Her father was studying her. “They have you on medication?”

“A lot of it.”

He came closer. “Have you slept?” Before she could answer her dad started to crawl into bed with her. With all the wires and tubes it was like an unsexy version of that movie with Catherine Zeta Jones’ butt going under all the lasers. Ew. She’d just used her dad’s awkward encroaching on her space to bring up the mental image of Catherine Zeta Jones’s ass. 

And now it was Arizona’s ass and she was turning and winking… 

“Daddy! What are you doing?”

“You always liked it when I’d hold you when you were sick.”

She feebly pushed on him. “You also weren’t a grandparent.”

“I’m worried Mija and I can’t do anything but sit in this bed and hold you until you feel better.”

It was so sweet. She had to smile. “I know, but I’ve got a reputation as a surgeon who doesn’t cuddle with her dad when she’s sick.”

Oh that was the wrong choice. Her father frowned. “Your reputation as a surgeon? You’d put that ahead of your own comfort?”

It was like that time she told him he couldn’t come see her presentation in college because no one else had parents coming. He showed up and then **clapped**.

“Daddy…”

He hopped off the bed. Opened his mouth to say something but thought better of it. “You know this is not just for you?”

“I know.”

“I get a call from **her** saying you’ve been hurt. That there was a plane crash? My only daughter nearly died Calliope. So I really don’t care about your reputation right now.”

He did not, however, get back into bed with her. Instead he walked over the couch beneath the window and started dragging it back towards her bed. The noise of the metal tipped legs on tile was painfully loud.

When it was close enough he took a seat that required perching precariously on the edge of the cushion and took her hand. “You’re my child.” He reached up and gently touched her cheek. “I nearly lost you.”

“But I’m okay.”

“You’re not okay. You’re in a bed and your leg is in that contraption. You were giggling right now because of the medication.”

“But I’ve got people.”

She didn’t want to risk turning to look into the hallway but she knew Arizona was there.

“Sure you have people. You have a husband that cheated, that mother of his and that man who just ran from me.”

“And Arizona.”

“But she’s not family Mija.”

It startled her how much that bothered her. Both his assumption and the knowledge that it was true, and that it still **felt** true.

Speak of the devil. Arizona appeared at the door, and judging by her bashful look she’d heard at least a little of their conversation. “Mr. Torres? I was just head home and…”

She looked from Callie to her father, who still sat patiently at her bedside.

“I was wondering if you needed a ride somewhere?”

“Thank you but I’ll be staying here.”

Callie shot Arizona a panicked look that she really hoped her dad didn’t catch.

Arizona stepped further into the room, “That’s fine, but I know your grandchildren would love to see you. I was actually going to go take some groceries by.”

She was?

“Owen hasn’t had a chance,” she explained.

“Owen. He’s staying at your home?”

Callie hadn’t actually known where Owen was staying. He’d brought the kids by that morning but she’d been too groggy to do much more than a feeble one armed hug. Which sent all three into a cascade of tears. She’d just assumed her former mother in law would have been helping.

But Arizona seemed to know. “He thought it’d be better that he stay with the kids. His mom’s place is apparently too small for five people long term.”

That was the truth.

“You should go Daddy. I know they’d love to see you.”

Arizona wisely didn’t say anything. Just stood there patiently waiting for his response. Her father looked from one woman to the other. “I suppose. And your mother will want a report as well. I’ll need her to send me more clothes too.”

She glanced over at his carryon bag. For her dad the bag could last a week easily. Which meant…

“You’re staying.”

“Of course. I’m not leaving until you’re walking.”

Arizona winced sympathetically.

 

####

Due to her arm being in a sling. Arizona was on desk duty for at least three weeks. She was also off her bike. She briefly thought about just riding one handed but her crash months earlier came to mind. So while Mr. Torres said goodbye to his exhausted daughter she snuck over to Addison’s room where Mark and his daughter were holding vigil.

“How’s she doing?”

“Stats are strong.”

She glanced down at Mark’s daughter then ran her hand over the girl’s soft hair. She didn’t even stir—perfectly at ease amongst the beeps and whooshes of Addison’s hospital room.

“Carlos Torres has decided you’re unfit to date his daughter.”

“Wait until he finds out I’m cheating on her with my comatose fiancee.”

She squeezed his shoulder. Addison hadn’t woken up since her surgery in Boise. The scans showed some measure of brain activity. She just…hadn’t woken up. Mark had been dealing with it by acting like nothing was the matter and so far they’d all let him.

“I offered to drive him over to Callie’s.”

He looked up at her suspiciously, “Trying to get in with the in-laws.”

“The man wanted to murder you and Owen. I want him to like me before he finds out I’m dating his daughter.”

“Are you?”

“Sure.”

“You’re not just feeling all hung up on her because you two nearly died?”

“What like in Speed?”

He blinked.

She explained, “They only got together because they were on the bus. Then Keanu didn’t want to come back for a sequel so she hooked up with Jason Patric and they rode around on a boat wondering if their relationship could be built on anything but adrenaline.”

He blinked again.

“It wasn’t very good.”

“I was referring to the fact that you like to be her protector and then dump her when she doesn’t need it any more.”

“It’s…it’s not like that.” It couldn’t be like that. Not after their time up on that mountain. Not after the last few days at the hospital. She waved her hand, “Oh whatever. Give me your car keys.”

For some reason that caused Mark to protectively clutch his daughter to his chest. “Why?”

“Because I’m not putting Callie’s dad on my handlebars!”

He juggled his daughter and pulled the keys out of his coat pocket. “Have it home before midnight.”

She rolled her eyes. “Right. I’m stopping by the store too. Do I need to get formula or anything?”

“Nah. The nursery here has it covered.”

She was about to lecture him about stealing formula from the nursery, but the sight of Addison laid out peacefully in the hospital bed stopped her. 

“I better go find Mr. Torres before he tackles some unsuspecting man that looks like you.” She gave him a quick kiss on the top of his head and stepped back out into the hallway where Mr. Torres was walking towards her. She quickened her own footsteps and turned him around gently by the arm.

“I’ve got keys and a list. Did you say goodbye to Callie?”

He nodded back towards Addison’s room. “Yes. Is your friend all right?” 

She chanced a look back herself, “Not yet. She was in the crash too.”

That was all she needed to say apparently because Mr. Torres was very respectful and didn’t ask more or attempt to awkwardly make Arizona feel better.

 

####

Cristina found that dealing with kids outside of the OR wasn’t so bad when she knew she could leave them with someone else at the end of the day. She was a cool aunt kind of figure who treated them like adults and they responded with delight. She didn’t have to parent or punish or even really feed them. Just make sure that none of them fell down the stairs or murdered each other with kitchen knives.

It still wasn’t necessarily ideal. She preferred not having to deal with kids at all, but the bonus of seeing Owen genuinely happy almost outweighed the hassle of his three children existing.

Almost.

She was alone in the kitchen enjoying the peace and quiet and consuming the very last of one of the kid’s brightly colored cereals when the front door opened.

“Hello!” Robbins: back to continue to insinuate herself into things so that when Callie was out of the hospital they’d go back to being…whatever they were.

“In the kitchen,” she shouted back.

They’d reached an…understanding in the last day. It had only really taken a look. Being so close to Owen and Callie respectively they’d found themselves wrapped up in a drama not entirely of their own making. Also Owen had mentioned that Arizona initially left Callie because of the kids factor. So she didn’t feel quite as bad complaining about them to Robbins.

She huffed her way into the kitchen with a bag overflowing with groceries. Cristina held up the cereal box. “Hope you got more of this marshmallow junk because the last half of this box is accidentally getting eaten as we speak.”

“I did, but—“

She looked almost panicked and when Cristina looked behind her she saw a little bald man juggling a suitcase, two more bags of groceries and the door.

“Who,” she mouthed.

“Callie’s dad,” Robbins mouthed back.

The man finally made it into the kitchen where, up close he was anything but little. Sure he was a little short compared to his daughter but he exuded a strength that Cristina might have found attractive ten years before.

He noticed her as he was setting the bags down and glanced at Arizona curiously before holding out a hand. “Carlos Torres. And you are?”

She opened her mouth to say something involving her name and her relationship to Owen but Robbins moved in like a cat and interrupted her, “Cristina Yang. She’s a friend of the family’s too.”

He looked over at her, “Your friends with Calliope.”

One. Hilarious name. Two. When was she ever friends with Callie? “Actually I’m—“

“She’s a resident under Callie. They’re close. Because of the heart surgeries. She’s kind of her…protege.”

Three. What. The. Hell.

 

####

She managed to get Carlos out of the kitchen before he could press the already irritated Yang into blowing both their covers. He picked up his bag and went upstairs to claim the guest bedroom.

She immediately spun on Yang whose patience had disappeared. “Any reason you’re playing Three’s Company with that guy’s head?”

“He nearly took out Owen and Mark today to defend Callie. He cannot know we are girlfriends of either of them.”

She gave Arizona a dubious look, “You I can get. You’re wanting to sleep with his daughter. Why on earth would I go along?”

“Because when I say took out I mean punched. In the face. He probably doesn’t hit women but I really don’t want to find out and if he knows your the slut that stole Owen away from his wife—“

“Says the woman getting into jealous fights with him at parties—“

“Right now we’ve got a shellshocked Owen, three kids and Callie in the hospital. We do **not** need the drama him knowing about us would bring.”

Yang still looked suspicious. She understood that. She’d had enough lesbian drama to last a life time and what she was doing with Carlos Torres was precisely the kind of thing she normally actively avoided.

But you changed for people you loved. 

Carlos slipped back into the kitchen like a ninja and both women startled back with a yelp that surprised him as much as they had been surprised.

“I—was just going to ask where the children were?”

Valid. She looked to Cristina for an answer.

“Owen took them out for dinner.” She or Owen couldn’t have made dinner? “Because I don’t cook.”

“You weren’t hungry too,” Carlos asked.

He must not have seen the cereal box Cristina had demolished. “Oh I was,” she said honestly, “I just don’t do cozy out to dinner meals with kids.”

Arizona closed her eyes. Of all the things Cristina Yang, MD, PhD could say…

But Carlos laughed, “You sound like my wife. Any chance she’d get she’d send me off with the girls so she could have ‘alone time’ with a bottle of wine.”

Cristina picked up the box and shook it. The last few pieces of cereal made a sad little sound. “I’m a cereal woman myself.”

Carlos clapped his hands together. “What say I make you two ladies a drink.”

Arizona didn’t want to drink. She wanted to go back to the hospital and stay up with Callie who she knew was having trouble sleeping. Or if that failed she wanted to go home and curl up in her own bed.

“You make cocktails,” Cristina asked. Not impressed.

He grinned just like his daughter.

 

####

Owen came home to find his girlfriend, Arizona Robbins and his former father in law playing cards and drinking a lot of booze. Though somehow Cristina looked like she was the only one drunk. She waved exuberantly but Robbins tugged her down before she could stumble over and kiss him.

She smiled apologetically and nodded towards Carlos who was standing and instead of straightening his shirt and glaring at Owen like he was about to murder him, grinned and held out his hands to catch the three squealing children, only one of which actually knew why they were squealing.

Owen was pretty sure Gavin and Angus were too young to remember their grandfather’s last visit. But he remembered them and swept all three up into his arms with a cheer.

The boys had a moment of confusion but when Allegra started chanting “grandpa” they caught on.

“Look at you three,” he exclaimed, “Pretty soon you’ll be carrying me!”

Allegra was eager to launch into all the things that had happened since she’d last seen her grandfather, and Gavin, who idolized his older sister, was happy to listen, but Angus soon wormed his way out of his grandfather’s arms and strode over to the two women still seated around the coffee table.

He’d always been a little more clingy than his brother. And an outsider even though tradition dictated that the Allegra should have been. He got angry faster than his siblings and loved nothing more than curling up in his mother’s arms.

Something which he wouldn’t be doing anytime soon.

He approached Arizona and Cristina and stared at them cautiously. Arizona smiled back kindly like she often did with kids and Cristina looked over his head to mouth hello to Owen.

Angus made some decision internally and then carefully crawled into Arizona’s lap. Though Owen and Arizona were currently operating under a truce while Callie was in the hospital he found that the way she curled her good arm around Angus protectively and held him close was more endearing than it should have been.

Almost maternal, a descriptor he knew she abhorred almost as much as Cristina. But she leaned in and quietly asked Angus how he was and he patted her face and said something about being good.

Allegra, meanwhile, was launching into a long tale about how everyone had sleepovers.

…

Shit! He darted over and pulled her out of Carlos’s arms before she could go into details about her parents’ sleepovers. Though Carlos had already caught on and was giving Owen a glare so cold it brought the temperature of the room down.

“I’m going to go take her up for a bath,” he said in an attempt to avoid his former father-in-law’s glare.

Allegra heard the word bath and immediately spiraled into a keening wail at the idea.

Everyone winced at the sound and Carlos looked like he was about to object and launch into a tirade on how unfit Owen was as a parent.

“Ice cream,” Cristina shouted. Allegra’s wails ceased and Gavin and Angus both suddenly grew very interested in what she had to say. “We’ve got some…for after baths.” She looked around, “It’s…delicious?”

“Yeah,” Arizona jumped in, “ice cream for kids who take bathes!”

She tickled Angus when she said it and he squealed before rolling off her lap and rushing up the stairs. Much like his older sister, who kicked free of Owen and shot off like Mark had earlier in the day.

Owen was about to follow but Carlos, still holding Gavin, stopped him. “I’ve got it. Why don’t you take a load off Owen.”

He slumped onto the couch behind Robbins who surreptitiously sipped her cocktail.

“He really hates you,” Cristina drunkenly observed.

“He doesn’t—we’re very—“

“ **Really** hates you,” Arizona added. Though she wasn’t drunk, just doing that jokey tone of hers.

“No. He’s really nice.”

“As long as he thinks we’re just friends of the family,” Cristina said. “I mean, I’m not saying he’d get violent with Robbins or I, but I’m also saying I don’t want to find out.”

“He wouldn’t get violent.” Sure he could be protective of his daughter but she made him sound like he was always a hair’s breadth away from Hulking out on the nearest person.

“No,” Robbins agreed, “but I deal with enough scary authority figures in my own life. I don’t need to add any to the mix.” With that she tried to push herself up and away from the coffee table. Owen shot a hand out to steady her.

“You okay to drive?”

She nodded. “Yeah, just not used to doing everything one handed.”

Cristina laughed, “Lexie says you do plenty of things one handed.”

“I do—“ she realized what Cristina was intimating and scowled, “Gross Yang. Really gross.”

She shrugged.

Arizona turned back to Owen and said softly, “I should probably head out.” He winced and a look of dread immediately crossed her face as she knew what he was going to ask. “You want me to take her home don’t you?”

“I can’t,” he said, “and she can’t stay here because,” he looked above their head.

“I…” She was failing to find a reason to avoid the trip. She moaned in frustration. “Damn it.”

“I’d really appreciate it.”

The both looked down at Cristina who was looking up at them. “You are two of the whitest people I’ve ever seen,” she finally said.

“If she throws up in Mark’s car you’re telling him,” Robbins said out the side of her mouth. 

He squatted down and picked Cristina up. She immediately wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him. Only her aim was off and her lips wetly smacked his eye.

“That’s so romantic,” Robbins said dryly. “Come on.”

After he got Cristina into Sloan’s SUV and made Robbins say at least three times that she’d text when they were both home safe he went back inside. In the interim all three kids had been bathed and were in their pajamas and robes eating ice cream. Carlos hovered over them looking much less like the intimidating business man he was accustomed to. The front of his shirt was wet with bathwater and his sleeves were rolled up to his elbows. He looked almost…paternal.

“Arizona and Cristina leave?”

“Yeah.”

“Together?”

“Yes?”

He only said it like a question because Carlos was smiling like he knew a secret Owen did not. Had…had someone told him something? The kids? Cristina or Robbins?

“They’re together aren’t they?”

Owen blinked.

“It’s okay. I’ve been to South Beach.”

“Cristina and Robbins?”

“They were trying so hard to avoid each other and it’s clear they’re keeping a secret.” He came around the table and put his hand on Owen’s in comfort. “Just let them know okay? They can be themselves around me.”

He smiled. His life was turning into a damned sitcom.

But at least now Robbins was sort of out.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m thinking something may need to happen that I really don’t want to happen in the next few chapters. It depends on how miserable the show makes me feel—because guys that show is so good and SO gut-wrenching lately. I’m all confused when this alternate universe is relatively shiny and happy instead.

Lexie must have drifted off because when she opened her eyes the sky was dark and the nachos she’d taken up to her room to eat while reading had congealed into a hot mess of processed cheese and chips.

She dug her knuckles into her eyes to grind the sleep out of her system and checked the clock. It was late. Past ten.

Well, that wasn’t **really** late. That used to be a normal time of day. Then she got a pacemaker and met a sister and went gay for a fucked up neurosurgeon and ten o’clock was bed time.

So what had woken her? It wasn’t the smell of nachos and pickled jalapeños. And she couldn’t hear loud sobbing from Mer’s room.

…

Not that Meredith sobbed a lot. She cried more than Lexie would have expected from the daughter of Satan and her dad but every time Lexie thought her sister was about to crack Meredith would suck in a deep breath and be herself again—her crying jags ending as abruptly as they began.

So what had woken her—was someone hitting her window with rocks?

She went to the window and tried to look out into the darkness to see what the hell was going on. Had her dealer come looking for the cash she owed him?

It was maybe a little irrational to think about him. It had been months and as far as he knew she’d died after “borrowing” more than she could afford. It was just where her brain went when rocks were hitting her window at ten o’clock at night.

Amelia was standing in the light cast by her window and looking sheepish. With a grunt she pushed the window open and hung her head out.

“What the hell are you doing,” she whispered loudly.

“I was saying hi!”

“With rocks?”

Amelia shrugged, “Were you sleeping?”

“Sort of. I fell asleep reading that article on nerve grafts your brother wrote.”

“It’s really good right?”

“Yeah—“

“Shut up,” Meredith shouted from her bedroom, “Or at least talk in the same room Lexie!”

Lexie rolled her eyes and Amelia bit back a laugh. She pointed downstairs to the front porch and Amelia gave her a thumbs up.

Feeling just the chill from the window Lexie snagged her blanket from her bed. She got cold all the time since her heart failure and subsequent recovery. Cristina told her it was in her head but the fluffy throw wrapped around her shoulders still made her feel better.

Rather than let Amelia inside—which would lead to talking and possibly sex and possibly yelling from Meredith—she stepped outside. It seemed to startle Amelia but she didn’t say anything. She motioned to the Adirondack chairs Mer’s dad had given them as a gift but Amelia took the bench opposite them. 

It would have been rude to sit in a chair instead right? Lexie had to choose to sit on the bench too or she’d be rude. So she sat.

It wasn’t as cold there.

“I was at Derek’s tonight.”

Lexie waited.

Amelia looked skyward in an attempt not to get emotional, “And I told him.”

“How’d it go?”

She laughed, “Not well. I think he hates me.”

“Amelia…”

“You know I used to talk to Addison about him. Because she gets him—or she did and I could confide in her but she’s in a coma Lexie. She might die and my brother—“

Lexie put her arm around Amelia’s shoulder and pulled her close.

“He can barely talk to me,” she whispered.

Lexie pulled her closer and when Amelia cried she averted her eyes. She hadn’t known the hot mess Amelia. Only the broken pieces of her afterwards. They didn’t really cry around each other—they were too busy trying to be brave and strong instead.

And Lexie didn’t actually like crying. Maybe in another world where her dad didn’t drink himself to death and her mother didn’t die she might have been a crier. But she’d grown up with an angry dad who talked about his first wife like she was God and the Devil in one and shouted at his kids whenever they appeared.

It wasn’t a home you cried in—at least not where others could see. It was a home where you were so strong it didn’t matter or so weak no one cared. Amelia crying in her arms felt funny.

And it felt sort of…she felt protective. Holding Amelia and telling her it would be okay made her feel **strong**.

Out in the darkness a car drove up and doors opened and closed, the actions punctuated by giggles. Amelia pulled back a little warningly and rubbed her eyes dry. Lexie reluctantly pulled her arm away and flipped her blanket around so it covered both their legs.

Arizona soon came out of the shadows grimacing and with a drunk Cristina leaning on her good side.

“Lesbians,” Cristina cackled.

Arizona winced, “Cristina and Carlos Torres cocktails don’t mix.”

“Apparently,” Amelia said. She hopped off the bench. “You okay?”

Something a little irrational in Lexie flexed at the question. It sounded so intimate and the way Robbins smiled in answer made it even more intimate.

Cristina saw her behind them and raised her free hand up, “Lexie!”

“How much did she have to drink?”

Arizona shrugged and caught Cristina when she swayed a little too precariously, “Not that much I thought. Maybe a drink or two more than me?”

Amelia grasped Cristina by the shoulders and looked her in the eyes, “Have you eaten?”

“Cereal?”

“Anything else in the last twenty-four hours?”

“Looks Little Shepherd I’ve got Owen, food, work and boards. Something was gonna give.”

Lexie’s stomach recoiled in sympathy. Cristina got loaded on an empty stomach. That was going to end in vomit by three that morning.

Or…

“Guys?”

Amelia and Arizona both looked at her.

Cristina tipped. And Arizona and Amelia both leapt back. Amelia grabbed Arizona’s elbow to keep her from falling as Cristina waved them all off. “I’m good,” she said. She straightened up and survey the three vaguely scared women. “See. No vomit.”

“Yet,” Amelia added.

Cristina shrugged, “I’m gonna go to sleep. Pacemaker check on me before you go to bed. You know in case,” she pantomimed vomiting.

Amelia and Arizona both averted their eyes. Because even though they were doctors and HAD to have at some point come in contact with vomit they still acted like wilting flowers.

“Sure,” Lexie said.

It got awkward as soon as she was gone. Arizona looked from one woman to the other and then reached up to rub her shoulder. “Well,” she said, “I guess I’m going to leave. Amelia do you—“ She jerked her thumb back in the direction of the SUV she’d driven up in.

Amelia waved her off. “No. I’m good.”

Arizona glanced at Lexie but looked away quickly when she met her eyes.

They both stood on the porch in silence until Arizona had gotten in her car and driven off. Then Lexie sighed loudly. “So, I should probably—“

“Can I stay here?”

That was…that was fast. And uncomfortable and she wanted her there but then she didn’t want her just living in her little room. And--

“Just on the couch,” she amended, “I’m feeling kind of awful and I really want a drink and if I go home Arizona won’t be there but the bar downstairs will.”

“You can stay as long as you need to.”

She narrowed her eyes, “Are you saying that because I put you on the spot.”

“Yes, but” she reached out to hold Amelia’s hand, “I’d probably say it anyways.”

At least she **wanted** to be able to say it.

 

####

Having three kids had prepared Callie for dealing with pain. She couldn’t say she was accustomed to it, but her tolerance was probably a lot better than another person’s in the same situation.

Yet it was still a dull agony that kept her up. Nurses and interns milled about just outside her door working late into the night and as quietly as possible. Two interns, the newest class judging by the fact she didn’t recognize them, rushed by giggling and she had the urge to call out and tell them to slow down.

Only she wasn’t a doctor. Just a patient. It was as maddening as the ache in her leg.

She leaned back against her pillow and stared at the TV. She’d left it on and muted and was watching some host help a family redesign their backyard. There were lots of greens and bright flowers and a brand new deck that she just knew would turn grey after one long winter.

The ache in her leg grew more pronounced and she thought about touching the button for more painkillers. But her kids needed a mom that wasn’t doped up and she needed a clear head so she could get better. Drifting into the nothingness that came with analgesics wouldn’t help.

“Shouldn’t you be resting,” Arizona asked quietly from the door. Callie hadn’t even seen her arrive.

“Shouldn’t you,” she countered.

“I had to drop off Mark’s car keys.”

And check on him. That was left unsaid. Talking about it would mean talking about Addison and neither women wanted to face the possibilities her coma raised.

Callie nodded and looked back at the TV. She felt more than saw Arizona step into the room. She opened her mouth but no words came out and she seemed to settle on taking a seat in the chair next to the bed.

Callie should have felt the need to speak in this situation. She should have asked about her dad staying at her house or about the kids or even Owen. Should have attempted small talk. She should have asked how Arizona was doing.

But she pulled her hand out from beneath the blanket and put it near the edge of the bed, palm up.

It was a silent invitation.

The legs of the chair scraped across the tile and a warm hand clasped her own. They said nothing.

And her leg didn’t hurt as much as it had before.

 

####

Arizona woke up at five in the morning with a neck so tight she was afraid to tilt her head. She popped an extra pain med in the hopes it would ease the stiffness that was slowly taking over her body.

She’d been pushing herself too much. She got that. She’d barely been home more than a few hours since the plane crash. Between Callie, Mark and Callie’s kids she felt like she **couldn’t** just go home.

But sleeping in a chair next to Callie’s bed wasn’t a good plan either. Especially because the orthopedic surgeon managing Callie’s care had come into work early and was quietly looking over Callie’s chart and frowning.

Arizona gave her a weak smile. She would be girlfriend number…she would be someone Arizona had had a thing with her first year in Seattle. They’d stayed “friends” afterwards and before Mark came along she’d been the only one Arizona had really eaten lunch with with any regularity. The fact that the woman apparently had an open marriage and a thing for supply closets had nothing to do with what they’d had. It was the hands and the whole confident ortho thing. She was a sucker for the bone breakers. 

“Hey,” she said softly, “you’re in early.”

Rebecca shrugged, “I have Callie Torres as a patient. You don’t sleep in with her butt in a bed.” The ortho surgeon returned to reviewing the chart.

“Everything okay?”

She was eyed suspiciously, “Who’s asking?”

Arizona tilted her and hoped she really didn’t have to play the family/doctor/friend game. She narrowed her eyes briefly.

“Arizona…”

“She’s my—“ she glanced down at Callie who was passed out and still pale. Girlfriend? Was that what they were? Were they dating? Or was she just a friend Arizona could never—no— “She’s my girlfriend and I’d like to know.”

“And I still can’t tell you anything without her consent.” Rebecca snapped the chart shut and left.

Arizona gave Callie’s hand a firm squeeze and dropped it to give chase. “Hey,” she called out, “I didn’t think our conversation was over.”

Rebecca spun around, “Really? That woman has a right to privacy and just because she’s your flavor of the month doesn’t mean I’m going to ignore that.”

“It’s more serious than that.”

The ortho doctor gave her a slow look from head to toe. “Sure, I don’t presume to judge you because we both know I don’t have the right, but don’t pretend six months from now you’ll be dealing with her kids and her ex and not looking for a quickie in the supply closet.” 

 

####

Arizona was gone when Callie woke up. The chair was still where she’d pulled it close to the bed and her coat hung off the chair’s arm. So she couldn’t have gone far, or be gone long. She glanced at the wall where the clock read eight o’clock. It was the longest she’d slept without being under. That was good.

But she was sweating profusely and her leg felt like someone was taking a drill to it. Her thumb hovered over the button briefly before she depressed it and waited for a little relief.

It came slowly and she let out a ragged sigh. 

A nurse arrived with a light breakfast that Callie couldn’t stomach and at half past eight Owen peeked his head in. He looked pointedly at the chair but said nothing about it.

“You busy?”

She glowered.

“You’ve got guests,” he said with a tilt of his head, “if you’re up to it.”

She grinned. “Definitely.”

He held his hand up to ask her to wait a moment and disappeared. When he came back it was with a boy in each arm and a girl walking nervously at his side.

Allegra was never nervous. The girl was a fearless little titan who firmly believed that she owned the hospital and the entirety of the staff. She wasn’t afraid when she ran into patients or doctors or nurses. But she watched Callie warily because the last few times she’d been to visit Callie hadn’t been her…best.

The boys were oblivious. They’d seen her once and she’s been doped up and falsely pleasant. 

“Hi,” she said softly.

She’d never had her daughter scared of her and it ached almost as badly as her leg.

“Are you better,” Allegra asked quietly.

“Not yet sweetheart. I hurt my leg.” 

Allegra’s eyes darted down to her thigh, held together by metal and wires. 

She patted the opposite side of her bed, “Do you want to come around this side and give me a hug though? I think I need one.”

She moved tentatively around the bed, her eyes always on Callie’s leg. The boys both grew restless in their dad’s arms and started to push to get down. Owen tried to hold onto them with a grunt.

“Do you boys want to see too,” she asked. That froze them.

Owen got whatever confirmation he needed from her with one look and maneuvered the boys so he was still holding them but they could see better.

Allegra used the chair Arizona had been in to climb up onto the bed. She moved gently, mindful of her mother’s leg, and settled against Callie’s side.

Her heart hammered in her chest as soon as the small body pressed against her. She hadn’t expected that to hit her so hard. Sleeping her days away in her room with Arizona or Owen always there had made the days blend together. It was, she realized, a week since she’d last held her kids or put her feet on solid ground or taken a breath without her whole body hurting.

She suck in a breath so deep it pushed the tears down and tried to keep her heart from beating straight out of her chest. Carefully she pulled the blanket away from her leg.

“Don’t touch it,” Owen said, “your mom is still healing.”

Both boys watched with the fascination of future doctors. Allegra didn’t move from her spot against her mother’s side but she twisted enough to get a look too.

“Does it hurt?”

“Just a little, baby.”

“What’s that?” Gavin was pointing at the frame.

“My bone got broken really bad so they have to use this to fix it.”

“Forever?” All three kids were shocked at the idea.

She smiled, “No. In a few days they’ll take it out and put a whoooole lot of metal onto my bone like a superhero. And then I’ll get a really cool brace and crutches and you three will get to help me up and down the stairs.”

Oh that was going to be miserable. She realized only as she said it that she’d be stuck going up and down the stairs with a leg in a brace up to her crotch. Not pleasant at all.

And that was only when her leg healed enough for her to get out of bed. She glanced down and the swollen purple limb. If it healed. Her bone marrow had been exposed to air for more than twenty-four hours. While they’d aggressively treated the soft tissue infection something still lingered and kept her more feverish than she should have been.

“You’ll be okay,” Allegra said with a confident nod that reminded her of Owen.

She smiled rather than assure her daughter. Because she wasn’t prepared to promise. Not to her daughter—not if there was a chance she might break it.

Owen’s mouth was set in a firm grimace. He juggled the boys a little and tried to catch Callie’s eye to check on her. He’d been so good the last few days. Good and patient.

“Okay,” he said boisterously, “Daddy’s got work and you three have got huuuge paint projects to do in daycare. Say goodbye to Mommy.”

He tilted each boy so she could cup the back of their heads and kiss their cheeks. Allegra was the last one she said goodbye to and the only one she was able to hold in her arms. She squeezed her tight and resisted the urge to cry.

She…she would get better and she would hold her kids and she would walk and run and everything in between. She had to.

 

####

Arizona had nearly forgotten Erica’s funeral was that afternoon. She’d been busy stalking Rebecca to learn more about Callie’s injuries and her plan to fix them. When that hadn’t worked she’d tried stalking Owen figuring he’d been able to get more out of Rebecca than she had.

She finally caught him between surgeries in the attending’s lounge looking much more together than usual—which was alarming in and of itself because the man was always very together.

When he shouldered on his black suit coat she realized why. They were burying Erica and he was going to the funeral. He glanced at her from the side without turning. “Are you not going,” he asked.

She did’t want to. She hated funerals. Hated the dying. Hated standing there inert while they cried over someone they couldn’t do a damn thing for. It was worthless—funerals. They always were. 

Sure some people needed them to cope. Attending one was a natural part of grieving and when she lost patients she always encouraged their family and friends to attend. But she, personally, could barely tolerate them.

“I must have—I’m going to go home and change.” Owen Hunt didn’t need to know she hated them.

He called out when she turned to leave, “was there something…”

“I was just seeing if you’d heard any more about Callie.”

He relaxed. Looked…soft for a moment. Not like the hard ass trauma surgeon she usually knew. But like that man her girlfriend must have loved. The guy that another woman flew across the country to be with and Cristina Yang altered her stance of children to stay with. 

“She hasn’t told me anything.”

“It’s just…you’re her husband—“

“Her ex-husband. I can ask if you’d like, but I don’t know what I can find out that you can’t.”

She frowned, “what’s that supposed to mean.”

“You and Collins. I was under the impression…”

She closed her eyes. Damn it. Right. Of course Owen would know she and Rebecca used to be a thing. “We’re just friends and apparently that means she won’t violate Callie’s privacy to let me know what’s going on.”

Owen shut his locked and stuck his phone in his pocket and checked himself briefly in the mirror next to Arizona. “Right,” he said. His jaw squared again as some thought ran through his head, “Do you need a ride,” he asked, “to the funeral?”

“I don’t want—“

“I feel like I owe you after last night with Carlos. And to be honest,” he stepped into her space, “I don’t really want to go alone.”

She stepped back, “Owen, you and I? We’re not friends.”

“I—“

“We have Callie in common right now. But you’re not my support system and I won’t be yours.”

He looked maybe a little dazed at her rejection, “Right.” 

She squeezed his arm and backed out of the room.

Okay maybe she’d been a little harsh with him. They were kind of stuck together after all. They both cared about Callie and they cared about her kids and if things—what if she and Callie got married some day down the line? Or moved in together? She and Owen were going to have to get along.

No. Not yet. Maybe she’d be stuck with him one day, but not yet.

She dashed across the street to her apartment and pulled on a dark pinstripe skirt and light pink blouse that didn’t clash with her sling. Her hair was a little more of a lost cause but she managed to put it up into a ponytail that didn’t look quite like the one-handed mess it was.

She drove Mark’s car to the funeral. When she’d tried to give him the keys back he’d motioned her away and told her to keep them until her arm was better. 

A lot of the hospital turned out. More than she’d expected. Nurses and doctors. Derek stood there in an impeccable suit and long dark coat with his chin jutting out in anger.

Meredith stood behind him and she didn’t watch the funeral, but the man she’d seemed to have grown apart from since the crash. Her sister and Amelia and Yang all stood with her. Owen saw Arizona and ignored what she said earlier. He stepped to the side, a silent admission of saving her a place.

Erica’s girlfriend stood with her family. She looked good. Same dark skin that was warm even on a dreary day and same silken hair Arizona used to run her hands through with a soft smile.

No one quite moved when the funeral ended—still unsure that it even **was** over. But a line formed soon enough as those who’d barely known Erica Hahn approached her family and lover to let them known she would be missed.

Arizona stepped up. She wanted only to get it over with. To move over the hump and move on. Erica’s parents were tearful and embraced her when they realized she’d been on the plane. Then her eyes met Lea’s.

They’d only been together a few times. Never long enough to be serious. Never long enough to understand one another.

Truth be told Arizona didn’t remember anything about Lea. They’d slept together and it had been pleasant but she never bothered to call Lea again and Lea never seemed to mind. She was just one of the crowd of women that had built up over her years at Seattle Grace. 

She wasn’t entirely sure what to say. How to pass along Erica’s final words. “Lea I—“

The crack of an open palm against her cheek was like a gunshot in the crowd. The whole of the group turned silent. Curious eyes fell on her and clawed at the little walls she’d tried to erect.

“Fuck you Robbins.”

She couldn’t even muster Lea’s name. Lea was nearly hyperventilating. Her face was hot and red. 

“How **dare** you come here after what you did to us.”

She found a voice, “Lea—“

But Lea didn’t want to hear it. She violently shoved Arizona back. Amelia looked at her so knowingly from the crowd. Cristina covered her mouth to hide her amused shock. Meredith and Lexie were two halves of a whole with faces still as stone.

How did she tell them it was just grief? How did she tell them **she** didn’t break Erica and Lea up? She’d just slept with Lea and Erica found out and ended it. And then she’d dated Erica to get over Callie. And…it wasn’t her fault damn it. She wasn’t the reason. 

She was a good person.

Erica’s mother stepped up, “I think you should leave,” she said quietly. The woman who’d embraced her like family only moments before was once again a stranger. Only…maybe more. Maybe something worse.

She stepped. Stumbled. Twisted on her heel and pushed through the crowd with her good hand.

Amelia caught her at her car and kept her from shutting the door. “Are you okay,” she asked urgently.

Being blamed for a death and humiliated at a graveside? In what world would that make her okay? “Let go Amelia.”

“Look, Arizona. She was upset and—“

She yanked the door out of Amelia’s hand, “I said let go.”

Amelia put her hands up in surrender. “I’m trying to help.”

On the outskirt of the crowd Lexie Grey was watching them. She jerked her chin in Lexie’s direction, “Then go back to your girlfriend and leave me alone.”

When Tim died it felt like the world was closing in around her. Like it was growing smaller and smaller and there’d be no escape. She’d curled up in a ball and Nick held her and told her it would get better.

And she hated him for it. Hated that he had been there when Tim died and he’d survived and he was walking around like he wasn’t held together with glue and tape.

Nothing in her life had been quite as awful as that moment. Nearly losing Callie in the crash had tried to come close. The crash itself. But Erica’s death? She’d met it with the same resolve she met most deaths. They were natural and awful but necessary.

She’d mourned Erica as she buried her out in the woods.

And then she’d forgotten about her. Callie’s recovery and Mark had taken up what little energy she’d had in her. 

She’d forgotten that Erica was her own person and that she’d loved a woman and that that woman had lost her. And she honestly had never thought herself complicit in that breakup. The women were both adults. It wasn’t her fault she was attractive and they’d been interested.

Damn it. It wasn’t her fault.

She was a good person.

She deserved more than to be slapped and ridiculed in front of her peers.

Deserved more than to have Amelia Shepherd chase her down.

She was a good person.

She raced home faster than she should have and ran into her apartment and shut the door with a satisfying slam. It shook the whole wall and the stupid photo of Malawi shook in its frame with the violence of it.

Her head smacked against the door when she leaned into it.

She could feel it again. The suffocating press of the world on her shoulders. And Tim wasn’t there to hold her and pull her out of it.

She dug her phone out of her purse and brought up his number. Stared at the photo of him surrounded by kids. He’d taken that photo in Malawi and taken more like them. When she’d switched her Madison grant from a clinic in Malawi to instrument development at Seattle Grace she’d tried not to cry and told him she really was going to miss the chance to see a country she loved.

So he went instead and took hundreds of photos. They filled her home and her phone and just looking at them made the world a little more open.

But not enough. And calling him wouldn’t help.

What would he say? How would she explain it?

Because she was a good person!

But she hadn’t been.

She’d slept with women and treated them like—like things. She’d come to Seattle full of hopes and a want for a new life and when she hadn’t found it she’d drifted into bad habits. Exaggerated them.

So maybe she did ruin Erica’s love life. Maybe she was to blame.

Maybe she wasn’t a good person.

It was kismet then that her phone rang. She picked it up from the floor with a heavy hand and almost didn’t press “Send.” It would have been easy to put it back down and fall into the sullenness pressing down on her from all sides.

But it was Callie calling her. And Callie was the only person on the planet that could get her to answer the phone. She sniffled away the tears and hit “Send.”

But with the line open she had no idea what to say.

“Arizona? You there,” Callie asked after a long minute of silence.

She sucked back more tears, “Yeah.”

Callie didn’t ask if she was okay. Like she knew it was a question Arizona didn’t want to hear, “So in a second my dad’s going to be at your door.”

“Callie…”

“And he’s just going to knock and leave something.”

The door rattled on its hinges with Carlos’s knock.

“Okay. Open the door.”

She scooted away and stood. Opening the door she found a large pink pastry box. She had to juggle the phone to pick the box up. It was light despite its size. She kicked the door shut and went to the couch where she set it on the table.

“Did you open it yet?”

She did. A multitude of donuts were presented to her. Colorful ones with pink icing and sprinkles. Powdered ones. Jelly stuffed. One had crumbled bacon on it and another was filled with custard and had a white smiley face dotted on its chocolate coating.

“I wasn’t sure what kind you like so I told Daddy to just get everything.”

“Callie. I—“

She interrupted her, “You didn’t mention the funeral but I figured you’d go because that’s who you are. And I know when you’re—I know you like donuts so I got Daddy—I just wanted to be there for you. Even if I can’t **be** there.”

Arizona smiled. Callie couldn’t see it of course. But it didn’t matter. If she knew Arizona well enough to do this—to pretend things were sort of okay and have donuts delivered then—

“I love you,” she said softly.

She thought maybe Callie smiled on the other end of the line. “I love you too.”

The press of the world wasn’t quite as claustrophobic. 


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We’re over the hump! Let squishy fluffy sexy happy times begin. I mean, with a little drama, but all planes have been grounded and there’s not a car behind a giant truck in sight and any potential gunmen are safely squirreled away. Thank you for all the wonderful and constructive feedback and never hesitate to give me more as I thrive on the stuff.

It took Owen **two weeks** to finally confess to why Carlos Torres kept smiling at her and asking if she liked the Indigo Girls.

 **Two weeks**.

Callie was through her second surgery and about to be discharged with a brand new knee, a titanium reinforced femur and a boat load of really good drugs. Derek Shepherd was getting ready to go in for another surgery that might help save his hand. Meredith was back at work. Addison was still a vegetable but her fiancee didn’t shout at interns or residents who lurked near her room any more.

And in all that time Owen couldn’t find a single moment to tell her Carlos Torres thought she was Arizona’s lover. Not once.

She and Owen had had sex sixteen times! He helped her study for her boards. He stayed over at her house and she found him eating breakfast with Amelia Shepherd. And he couldn’t once say “by the way Torres really likes you and Robbins because he thinks you finger bang her every night while crooning Tegan and Sara or something.”

Meredith didn’t get it, “You’re mad he thinks you’re gay?”

“Oh I could care less,” she swished her hand dismissively, “But gay for **McDreamy**? I am way too hardcore a lesbian for her. Your sister. Shepherd. I could see being gay for them, but not someone who quiffs sunshine.”

Meredith laughed but waved her hands, “No. Gross. I don’t need that image.”

“Women probably get sunburns going down on her.”

Meredith grabbed her pillow and swung it at Cristina’s head. “Seriously. Stop.”

“I can’t. I’ve been thinking about it ever since Owen told me. **Two weeks** after the fact.”

“Does it really change anything?”

“If Callie’s dad thinks I’m sleeping with Robbins? Yeah. My image.”

Meredith rolled her eyes, “You’re not exactly Ms. Vanity.”

“I am if that old man starts running his mouth off at the hospital. I’m the resident so scary attendings give me solo surgeries to avoid saying no to me. Not the one that paddles bright and happy Robbins’ canoe.”

“If you do one more euphemism that causes me to picture you and Arizona’s apparently luminescent vagina I’m gonna throw up all over you.”

She sighed and flopped back onto Mer’s bed. “But what if she finds out?”

“It’s not like she’ll be mad at you.”

“No, but she’ll try to joke about it and I don’t like her enough for that.”

Meredith was sitting cross legged on her bed making some kind of game to study for her boards using index cards and post its. She scribbled something on a pink post it and stuck it on top of a stack of cards. 

“Is she really that bad?”

Cristina sighed and rolled over onto her stomach to better watch Mer’s work. “Not really,” she snagged a throw pillow and hugged it to herself, “it’s just I signed on for a relationship with Owen you know? And now I’m stuck with his kids, his ex and Robbins. It’s like a post-modern Brady Bunch.”

Meredith stacked a pile of cards into a deck and handed them to her, “Okay Marcia. Quiz me.”

Cristina thumbed through the cards on the hunt for a really good one, “Can there ever be such a thing as too much studying?”

Mer frowned. “This is for our boards Cristina. This determines the rest of our lives.”

“Right, but we’re both really smart and we study at least four hours a day. Couldn’t you take a break? Get out of bed. Maybe move from the study cocoon you’ve built yourself.”

“I go to work,” Meredith said defensively. 

“Sure. Your mom put you on a forty hour a week schedule. There are Derm attendings that work longer hours.”

“She wants to make sure I have time to study.”

“Is that what Derek’s doing too?”

“Cristina—“

“Because—“

Meredith slammed her own stack of cards down onto the mattress, “He broke up with me okay? Addison’s in a coma and his hand requires months of physical therapy and apparently having a girlfriend that cries when planes fly overhead but tries to act normal is too much for him.”

She’d suspected something was up. Mer spent all of her time in her room burying herself in prep for boards and she hadn’t mentioned Derek once since he’d been discharged. But she thought maybe they’d just taken a break not actually— “I’m sorry.”

Meredith swallowed to keep from crying, “I’ll be fine. I’m gonna rock my boards and get a fellowship in, like, Baltimore and my mother and Derek can both suck it.”

“You’re not going for the one at Seattle Grace?”

“Cardio? I thought you were. With Owen and everything.”

“Well yeah, but not exclusively. Mayo and UCLA have both sent inquiries.”

Mer blinked, “Wait. You’re thinking of leaving?”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“Owen? Your post-modern Brady Bunch life?”

Somehow between boards, Owen and the plane crash she’d failed to actually consider that. If she left she couldn’t ask him to go—not with his job and kids. But was it right to stay and work for **Teddy Altman** and spend two more years learning from Callie? Maybe when Hahn had joined the staff it would have been worth it. But Torres and Altman were something else entirely.

She focused on the cards still in her hands, “Okay. Patient is a twelve year old male complaining of chest pains…”

 

####

Arizona’s first official week back was one of the best weeks of her life. In the OR she was her normal self and quickly found the rhythm she’d been a little scared she’d lost. Outside of the OR the kids who’d heard of what happened were only astounded by her existence and everyone else walked carefully around her and treated her like royalty. Karev, feeling guilty for not being on the plane himself, even took over all of her paperwork AND did it right.

And when she was a little wary she could go down a floor, take a right, and spend her time with Callie. They’d read books to each other, gossip and just enjoy being together and, relatively, healthy.

Unfortunately Callie was only improving and four days after her final surgery Rebecca interrupted the movie they were watching. She clicked the TV off like an grumpy teacher and ignored both women’s protest, “Dr. Robbins, do you mind?”

“But that was the part where he realizes he’s in love with Claire Danes even though she’s a fallen star and he can’t deliver her to Sienna Miller,” she protested. It was a really good movie.

Callie patted her arm, “I’m fine with Arizona staying.”

Arizona raised her eyebrow in a challenge to Rebecca. If her being in the room and Callie telling her to stay wasn’t proof that they were serious she didn’t know what was.

The ortho surgeon pursed her lips and glared. “Fine. So Callie, as you know, you’ve shown monumental improvements.” Callie nodded and Arizona grinned. Her girlfriend had shown **awesome** improvements. “No sign of infection since the first week here, and your femur is healing well, as is the new knee.”

Callie shifted in her bed. While her wounds were healing like she was a superhero she was still in a lot of pain. Partly, Arizona suspected, because she was skipping some of her pain meds.

Rebecca was still talking—“Which is why I think today is the day we discharge you.”

Arizona bolted up right, “What, really?”

Rebecca ignored her. “With a lot of patients I’d be hesitant. But you’re a doctor and you’re surrounded by doctors. If you do the PT, keep activity to a minimum and avoid anymore planes I think you can go home in a couple of hours.”

Callie involuntarily squeezed Arizona’s arm at the mention of the word plane. But Arizona was too busy feeling her stomach lurch up into her mouth at the word to respond. 

Rebecca didn’t notice, “So what do you say? Ready to go home?”

A giddy laugh bubbled out of her, “Yes,” she exclaimed, “God yes!”

Rebecca explained the protocol for discharge—which they both already knew—and made her exit. Callie grabbed her phone off the table near her bed and started to dial a number but froze when she realized she had no idea who to call.

Arizona raised an eyebrow and watched her. “You okay?”

“I don’t know who to call,” she said flatly.

“About…”

“I have to go home and I have no idea—I don’t know what to do.”

 Arizona quickly glanced outside. Seeing no one paying attention to them she went to the door and shut it. She closed the shades on the way back before taking a seat on the edge of Callie’s bed. 

Her girlfriend’s phone sat forgotten in her hand as she watched Arizona. “What are you doing?”

“This,” she leaned over and softly kissed Callie’s lips. They fluttered just beneath her own. She’d had so few opportunities to kiss Callie. Stolen moments late at night or early in the morning when Callie’s dad or a big mouthed nurse was unlikely to intrude. “You,” she said gently, “don’t have to worry about a thing today. Owen and Cristina and I switched your office and your bedroom last weekend and your dad will be there every night if you need anything. I’ll even take the couch if he gets too clingy. So in a minute we’ll call him and get him to come pick you up while I go watch more awesome surgeries and figure out how to tell Amelia I can’t watch her big surgery back tonight.” 

Callie darted in for another kiss. “You thought of everything.”

“I’m kind of awesome that way.”

“Hm,” she ran her hands over Arizona’s arms. The warm pads of her fingers painting delicate strokes across her skin. “Did you think of this?” Her hands clamped down on Arizona’s forearms and dragged her forward into something a little more friendly.

She moaned pleasantly into the kiss, “No, but a good surprise is always—“

“Shut up,” Callie said into her mouth.

Arizona had gone nearly two months without sex. The first had been post breaking up with Callie. She hadn’t even been able to muster a first date and had buried herself in her work—developing a new program to help disenfranchised sick kids in Malawi and hopefully get her another Carter Madison, teaching Karev to be a better doctor and figuring out a plan that would have allowed them to push up the Boise twins surgery that led to their plane crash.

She found herself falling to sleep each night missing Callie and crying in the shower because she didn’t know what else to do. Sex—the release that had been her constant for years—just didn’t entice her. It had been like Callie had…broken her.

The three weeks since the crash had been sex free too, but that’s because she had a gimpy arm and Callie was stuck in a hospital bed. What should have been a cute little “we’re dating” kiss was anything but.

She wasn’t going to start stripping her scrubs off in Callie’s room—or stripping Callie’s gown off either—but she disappeared into the kiss. Greedily exploring Callie’s lips and reacquainting herself with each sigh and every hitch in Callie’s breath.

“I missed this,” she sighed in a whisper.

 

####

Callie missed fast food and when her dad had her loaded in the back of the van he’d rented and pulled away from the hospital that had become her involuntary home for nearly a month he turned and asked if she needed anything.

Besides, of course, the myriad of equipment the hospital was sending home with her and the extensive selection of very good drugs and antibiotics.

“A cheeseburger,” she asked hopefully.

Her dad smiled. “Of course mija.”

It was a little weird being ferried around Seattle by her dad. It took her back to being a kid and sitting in the back of the family Suburban on the rare family road trip. 

They hit a drive through on the way home but Callie directed her dad to Kinnear Park instead of the house. He didn’t argue—instead noting he’d never been there before.

“It’s got a nice view of the Sound and I just—I needed some outdoors time. Being cooped up in a hospital for three weeks has me a little batty.”

He smiled in the rearview mirror and got out to help her and her granny walker to a bench. They propped her leg up on the walker and watched the water while happily eating their sandwiches.

“This is nice,” her father mused. “Just you and me.”

She leaned into her father and rested her head on his shoulder. “I missed you Daddy.”

“I missed you too.” His hand, larger than her own, covered the one she’d wrapped around his arm. He was warm and his thumb rubbed small circles on her wrist. It was a comfortable silence finally interrupted by his haunted musing, “I didn’t even know you were missing.” 

She sat up, “Daddy?”

He tried to smile but it fell into a frown. “My daughter was missing in the forest and I didn’t even know.”

She shook her head. “Owen was—“

“Taking care of my grandchildren and clearly upset, but **I** should have known Calliope. I’m your father and I should have known you were in trouble.”

She kissed him on the cheek and rested her head on his shoulder again. Would she know where her own kids were on trouble? Would some queer feeling bubble up and tell her to rush home? Or would she be her father hearing it in a phone call and feeling the world fall away?

“And it’s not just the crash,” he continued. “You’ve been here all alone. Getting a divorce. Raising three children.”

“I wasn’t alone though.” Arizona had been there. For the worst moments Arizona had been a constant presence driving all the awfulness away with a sunny smile and enigmatic eyes. She’d been…miraculous.

“Friends,” her father said skeptically, “they’re not **family** Calliope. At the end of the day they go home to their own lives.”

But Arizona hadn’t. She’d wormed her way into Callie’s life. Her kids called her Arizona instead of Dr. Robbins and Callie knew that it took exactly seventeen minutes to get from the hospital or Arizona’s to Callie’s house. Which wasn’t actually a good example of how bound to each other they’d become—but it was proof of something. Like Arizona’s constant presence by her side at the hospital. It was commitment. It was more than a fling or experimentation. Even before the crash when Arizona had broken up with her it had been more. After it was like—it was the familiarity she’d always wanted with a lover.

It was love.

“Daddy, the friends I have here **are** family.”

“The lesbians?” 

Her heart stopped. “Excuse me?”

“I know your lesbian friends are very close, but mija, they’re in love and a couple all they’re own. They can’t be a substitute for real family.”

Plural? Okay so Arizona was probably one of the lesbians. Callie never thought she gave off whatever vibe it was that said “gay” but they were inseparable even when her dad was around so she had to be one of them. But who could the other one be? Not Owen’s mom. Addison was in a coma. She wasn’t friends with any other women. In fact the only other woman her dad had probably seen was Yang.

…

He though Yang and Arizona were lovers? Together? In a coital sense? With all the really fun activities that implied? 

Yang?!

 **Really**?

“Which is why I’m moving here temporarily.”

Wait. What? How did that—her dad was moving to Seattle?

“Daddy, I appreciate you coming out here and helping with the kids and everything but I really don’t—“

“We’ve been talking about expanding our boutique line and Seattle was one of the markets discussed. It’d be for business as much as pleasure. I’ll stay six months. Live with you and the kids and after that if you decide you want to move ho—“

“Okay,” she held up her hand, “let me stop you right there. I’m not moving home. I have a job here—a fellowship! And my friends are here. More importantly the kids’ father.”

“Aria did just fine when she moved with your mother to Miami.”

“Her dad’s also an asshole Daddy! Owen is a good man and a good father and I’m not going to drag my kids across the country away from him just because you’re nervous.”

He did that thing he always did where he acted like he was listening and caring about what she said. Then he kissed her forehead. “We’ll talk about it later.”

She rolled her eyes. Great. She wanted to talk about it more right then but just moving out of the car to the bench and the prospect of moving back to the car again had taken a lot out of her.

Meekly she agreed, “We will.”

 

####

As an assistant librarian Lexie had limited access to the hospital. She had a command of the records that made the board prepping residents envious but they got to go into the OR and scrub rooms and through all those doors that said NO ADMITTANCE.

They could just waltz right through and watch surgeries from the gallery too! Or they could sneak in their friends and family. Lexie used Avery and a promise to open the library early the next morning to get into the gallery for Amelia’s big tumor removal. She’s explained it to Lexie in detail the day before. Apparently there were a lot of issues with veins.

She’d expected the gallery to be packed with people at eight o’clock on a Friday night. What with how intricate and special the surgery was. But it was just Derek sitting in the back row with his bandaged hand propped up on his knee.

She smiled and sat in the row below him and as far away as possible. Down below Amelia prepared to make her first incision. She looked up and saw her brother and then her eyes flickered to Lexie’s and she could have sworn she saw her smile behind the mask.

Amelia’s scalpel split the person’s skin and she carefully created a flap revealing the skull beneath. Somehow Lexie hadn’t anticipated it being so…graphic. She swallowed so she wouldn’t get sick.

“Is this your first surgery,” Derek asked.

She glanced back at him, “Uh yeah. It is.”

“Do you know what she’s doing?”

“Looks like she’s taking his skull off.”

Shepherd laughed. “Kind of.” He stood up and stepped carefully over the chairs and then came and sat next to her—leaving a single chair between them. “You want me to explain it to you?”

“I guess.”

He used big technical words but would pause and seemed to sort through them before going back and defining them for her. He was a good teacher, she realized. Able to cage the technical speak in easier to understand terms.

“This is what you do right?”

He grimaced, “It was.”

Right. The hand. “I’m sorry. About your hand and your ex-wife. It can’t be easy.”

He said nothing.

Down below Amelia asked for some tool. Derek explained its purpose then asked, “How’s your sister?”

“Sad.” Meredith wouldn’t want him to know that. “She misses you.” That either.

With his big hair and those perfect eyes and pouty lips he had an affinity for looking like a grief stricken Greek statue. His image was cut from marble and the embodiment of a single emotion: melancholia.

“I know it’s complicated because of your ex-wife and your hand, but she loves you.” She nodded down at Amelia, “They both do.”

“Not a lot of people would have this conversation with me you know.”

He was the scary McDreary. Not a guy people got familiar with. Especially someone who wasn’t even a surgeon. There was a hierarchy at the hospital and she was low woman on the totem pole.

But she shrugged, “Maybe. I know I’m not a therapist or anything. I’m just an ex-drug addict who couldn’t even go to college, but for the first time in a long time I have a family and I guess that child of an alcoholic in me is desperate to keep that family together no matter what. They both miss you, and you miss them too. You’re here at eight o’clock on a Friday watching your sister do one of the most important surgeries of her career. That has to mean something.”

“Maybe.” Some of the melancholia drifted away from his face and his lips curved. Not into a smile but into something more hopeful than his previous frown. “You’re more than an ex-drug addict Lexie Grey.”

She’d been told so many times she was more than her addiction. That saying that to herself was her coping mechanism—the self criticalness—apparently it was supposed to be crippling.

But he smiled at her and things sort of tilted. He wasn’t McDreary. In another life he might have been McDreamy. And she wasn’t the worthless sister riding on whatever coattails her sister offered.

She’d been told so many times she was more than her addiction, and in that moment she believed it.

 

####

Amelia invited her to sit up in the gallery and watch a really cool surgery. On another day Arizona would have been all about watching Amelia get her mojo back. Unfortunately Amelia’s surgery was scheduled for the same day Callie got out of the hospital and girlfriends trumped ex-girlfriends every day of the week.

She rode straight over after work. Part of her felt guilty about leaving Amelia to her surgery and Mark to another night alone at Addison’s bedside. But a bigger part of her was giddy about Callie being out and the chance of seeing her happy and almost healthy in her own home powered Arizona up a particularly brutal hill she’d been cheating and walking up lately instead of riding.

She didn’t run any errands or pick up any food. It would be nearly eight thirty by the time she got to Callie’s and the kids would be in bed or on their way and already fed. She thought about grabbing a movie but Callie had remarked on being fed up with movies and TV after three weeks in a hospital. 

She did, however, have one gift tucked in her bag. Just something small. She hadn’t even decided if she’d give it to her.

The lights were all on when she rode up to the house and Allegra swung the front door open as she braked to a stop in front of the steps. They stared at each other. Arizona in her jeans, scarf and fancy, sexy but no too sexy top and Allegra in her nightgown. She had no idea how Allegra had known to open the front door.

“Did you bring donuts,” she asked hopefully.

“Not tonight. Shouldn’t you be in bed?”

“Mom’s reading us a Berenstain Bear book and then we’re going.”

She picked her bike up and carried it up the steps then fished the chain lock out of her bag and wrapped it around the post and her bike. It wouldn’t really stop a thief but in Callie’s neighborhood it was more about deterring idiot teenagers.

“So why aren’t you inside with your mom?”

“I saw your light,” her little finger pointed at the light on her handlebars that at that very moment Arizona was switching off.

“So she’s not done yet?”

Allegra shook her head, “No. We just started.”

“Good!” She leapt across the space between them in an instant and grabbed the squealing girl up in a hug. “So let’s go finish,” she said before kissing Allegra on the cheek.

 

####

A very bright and bouncy Arizona came jogging into the office turned bedroom with Allegra on her hip making a noise in perfect time with each heel strike. The last few steps into the room Arizona picked up speed and Allegra did too. She then stopped abruptly in front of Callie with a heart stopping smile and took the last few steps very slowly. Allegra slowed her noise making down to keep in time and when they stopped in front of Callie’s bed they both giggled.

“Someone was waiting for me at the front door,” Arizona noted, bumping Allegra up and down with a hip swish.

Gavin and Angus both cheered the arrival of their new play toy and Callie had to grab Angus and lift him over her leg before he scrambled over it in his haste to get to her.

She oofed under the massive hugs the twins applied to her legs. “Jeeze you’d think they hadn’t seen me in months.”

According to Allegra Arizona came by nearly every day—often with treats—and helped put her and her brothers to bed if Owen couldn’t do it. “Then she and Grandpa play cards,” she’d explained very seriously.

Until Callie had gotten home and been moved into her temporary bedroom she hadn’t realized just how irreplaceable Arizona had become in a short period of time. Little touches of the woman were all over the bedroom. Flowers near the window, a soft rug over the hardwood floor and brand new sheets that were much pinker than what Callie was accustomed to.

Yet it was Arizona’s ever expanding relationship with her children that really caught her ear. They’d been thrilled when Owen dropped them off after daycare and they realized their mom was home. He’d left with a smile and a promise to call and she’d quickly been wrapped up in hearing every detail of their lives in the weeks she’d been at the hospital.

Arizona kept popping up in their stories. Over and over again. Allegra especially was smitten with her and talked all about her plan to ride a bike just like Arizona’s when she was older.

Whether she’d meant to or not (and knowing Arizona it was likely the latter) she’d formed actual relationships with Callie’s children. She watched Arizona fake groan across the room with two boys latched to her legs and a little girl in her arms and a contented kind of joy sprung up within. Arizona shot her a private smile that made her cheeks hurt with a smile of her own.

“They missed you,” she said intimately.

“I don’t see why,” she grinned down at the kids, her tone at once teasing and maternal, “You guys have an **awesome** mom who I hear was about to read everyone a very cool book.”

She held up the slim children’s book Gavin had selected. “I was!”

Arizona used her free hand to pry Angus and Gavin off her legs and return them to their spots curled up against Callie. She then took a seat cross legged at the end of the bed and held Allegra in her lap. “I, personally, am all about hearing of the adventures of Sister and Brother Bear.”

Her dad came in ten minutes later and at the end of the last page and glanced at Arizona in surprise. “Arizona! I didn’t hear you get here.”

She motioned to the sleepy girl in her arms, “Allegra let me in. How are you Carlos?”

“I’m well.” 

He was fired up was what he was. Since lunch he’d gotten more and more excited about his plan to move in for a few months and had spent most of his time since dinner up in Callie’s old bedroom arranging meetings for his hotel launch.

“I was actually coming to get all these little munchkins to bed.” It was a not so subtle request for help and Arizona quietly acquiesced. She winked at Callie on her way out. Allegra, still in her arms, shifted lightly to wave sleepily at Callie over Arizona’s shoulder.

Five minutes later Arizona slipped back into the room and dimmed the lights. She kicked off her shoes and crept toward’s Callie’s bed. 

“They’re all in bed and your dad’s back up in your old bedroom,” she whispered.

“Thanks.”

She took a seat next to Callie and nodded towards her propped up leg. “How are you feeling?”

“Good.”

Arizona’s eyes narrowed and she reached over to press a cool hand against Callie’s forehead. “Any fever?”

Callie pulled the hand down and placed a kiss into her open palm. “Nope. Under a hundred degrees, and before you ask, yes I’m experiencing some discomfort and took my pain meds an hour ago.”

“Hm, good.” She leaned in and gently pressed her lips to Callie’s. “How are you holding up living with your dad?”

She rolled her eyes, “He’s driving me up the wall, but it’s worth it to be home with the kids again.”

“They missed you.”

Not as much as they would have without Arizona there.

Arizona snuck in another kiss and scooted down to the end of the bed. “You do your exercises for the day?” 

Callie winced in discomfort and reseated herself. She had done the exercises, all of them, and it had turned the dull ache in her leg into a million fire ants that her meds were only now dampening, “Yes.”

Arizona squinted at her then carefully pulled the blanket away from her leg and took her foot into her lap. “Bet it hurts doesn’t it?”

“It’ll be fine,” she grunted.

Arizona ignored the bandaged part of the leg to focus on her calf, ankle and foot. She rubbed her hands together before carefully laying them on Callie’s lower leg. They were warm now. Her fingers, delicate and capable of genuine art with surgical tools, dug into flesh accustomed only to the manhandling of nurses and doctors. They were strong and sure and instantly eased the tense muscles and tendons of her leg.

Callie sank back into her pillows and threw a small one over her face to stifle her groans. When she was positive she wouldn’t loudly embarrass herself she sat up again to watch Arizona.

Her lips were curled into an unconscious little smile just barely masked by a curtain of blond hair. Her fingers danced across Callie’s skin. Her eyes were dark with concentration. 

And then she found a knot in Callie’s calf she didn’t even know had existed. She unconsciously groaned again in delight, too wrapped up in watching the way Arizona’s brow furrowed in thought as she massaged the knot away.

The tail end of the groan turned unnecessarily saucy and Arizona looked up at her in wide eyed surprise. Callie whole face turned bright red and she flopped back into her pillows again in embarrassment.

“I guess I have a back up job if surgery ever stops working for me,” Arizona teased.

“I refuse to be embarrassed by the noise I just made.”

“Good,” Arizona had moved like a lion back up to the head of the bed, “because that was a really sexy noise.”

She pulled the pillow away from her face and appraised Arizona, “Really?”

Arizona bit her lip and her eyes crinkled with a that McDreamy look of hers, “Yeah.”

She laced her fingers with Arizona’s and brought her hand up so she could admire Arizona’s. “It’s these hands. They’re kind of perfect.” She kissed each finger in turn. “And they belong to a pretty perfect lady too.” That dreamy smile was still plastered on Arizona’s face so Callie tried kissing it away. “Can you stay tonight,” she surprised herself by asking between kisses. 

Arizona pulled back, “Your dad. I don’t want to—“

“I’ll deal with my dad.”

That made Arizona look slightly panicked. She glanced down at Callie’s still exposed leg. “But your leg.”

“Arizona.” She squeezed both of her hands. “I want you to stay.”

Her dad was going to have to learn sooner rather than later. Every day she and Arizona were growing closer—drawing together like a braid. She definitely dreaded the conversation because her father could be incredibly protective and incredibly ornery. But she wasn’t going to send Arizona home to make him feel comfortable. Not when her just being in the room eased every muscle in Callie’s body.

“Please.” She kept her voice just soft enough that she didn’t sound like she was begging.

Arizona looked down at their joined hands. “Okay.” She moved around so she sat up against the pillowed with Callie and then pulled her against her. “But I’m probably gonna sleep on the couch so I can run faster if he flips out.”

“Hm, but for now you can sit right here with me.”

Arizona kissed the top of her head, “I like that plan.”


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was trying to get back into things so this chapter is shorter than my usual goal, but the next one should be a doozy!

Her beeper beeped pluckily from the bedside table. It was all perky despite it being dark out and clearly too early for. She groaned and snuggled up closer to her warm body pillow.

Which moaned, “Mm, your beeper.”

She pulled herself closer and attempted to bury her head in her body pillow’s shoulder.

The beeper did not abate.

“I’d get it,” the body pillow said sleepily, “but I can’t really walk too well.”

“I’m going.” She rolled over with a grump and reached for the beeper in the darkness.

“Work,” Callie asked. 

“Yes,” She groaned again and flopped back into the warm cocoon of Callie’s bed. “Can I just stay here and let some intern save tiny humans?”

Callie pulled her close and planted a kiss on her lips. “No. You have to go save lives.”

She dropped her head back to Callie’s shoulder and half-heartedly sobbed, “But I wanted to sleep.”

Callie was still barely awake and tried to kiss her forehead but ended up on her eye. “You can sleep afterwards. Go be awesome.”

“You can only be this encouraging because you’re still sleeping.”

“Uh huh.” And with the gift of a doctor and mother Callie fell right back to it. Her eyes gently shutting rather than snapping and her whole face going slack.

Arizona took a moment on the edge of the bed to rub the sleep from her eyes and stretch. She must have drifted off almost as soon as she’d climbed into bed with Callie. She was even still wearing her scarf and bra—the underwire of which was digging into her side.

She made her way carefully to where she’d left her shoes and pulled them on in complete darkness.

“I bet your ass looks great,” Callie sleepily murmured from the bed.

So not asleep as that gorgeous face of her’s had suggested.

Arizona crept back over and kissed her on the forehead. “It looks fantastic.”

Callie lazily took her hand and kissed her finger tips. “Call me later?” She looked up, illuminated only by light filtering in from the street. Her eyes seem to sparkle.

Struck by an overwhelming urge to kiss her once more Arizona was forced to oblige. “You can count on it,” she whispered against Callie’s lips.

Stepping out into the hallway some part of her half expected to find Carlos sitting on the stairwell with a shotgun but it was empty. She peeked into the living room and found it empty as well. The whole house was dark except for the night light on the stairs. Quiet too. Peaceful. None of the footsteps of neighbors or the noise on the street below or the hum of the elevator down the hall. Just the creaks of a house settling and a light breeze fluttering against the wind chimes on the porch.

She snuck out the front door feeling a little more like the womanizer than the girlfriend. She didn’t have keys to lock it but there was one in a hideaway rock in the plants. Callie had mentioned it once before they’d broken up the first time. “So you can have easy access,” she’d murmured lustily into Arizona’s ear.

She locked the door, ensuring she was the only one with that kind of access.  Then she unlocked her bike and pedaled away feeling sort of foolish. Not over her quiet exit, but over being on a bike at four in the morning in last night’s clothes. It wasn’t a walk of shame, but a six figure surgeon on her way to forty probably wasn’t supposed to be doing it either.

And it was odd feeling a little ashamed about her lifestyle. She’d grown to love it since coming to Seattle—finding satisfaction in potentially bad habits. Being with Callie put a light on her problems. It illuminated all the little places where she had room for improvement. But instead of bothering her it seemed to be—it was like going to school and learning from a fantastic teacher. 

She was learning.

And finding she loved it.

 

####

After weeks of playing house with the Torres-Hunt-possibly Robbins family Cristina was in love with her forty-eight hour shift. Forty-eight straight hours absent small children and small talk. Just open bodies, and sick and dying people. It was heaven.

Then a little girl went head first into a car and Cristina had to call in on call attendings and ruin a perfectly good forty-eight hours of Robbins-free bliss.

The Peds doctor darted into the ER in a very nice outfit for four something in the morning. No. No Cristina was not going to engage in idle gossip concerning the other doctor just when she’d escaped that house full of happy kids and happier adults. Robbins tossed her scarf and purse under the nurse’s station, accepted a trauma gown and zeroed in on her, giving her hope that the feeling was mutual. 

“What do we got?”

She motioned to the trauma room she was headed towards, “Six year old meets car. Shepherd’s coming in to assess neuro but her torso is—“

Robbins finished her sentence, “A mess.”

The kid was lucky to be alive. It was only fast paramedics and Cristina’s work in the ER keeping her that way. She ran down everything she’d done since paging Robbins who listened with purse lips and sharp eyes that absorbed the girl’s injuries.

“We need to get her upstairs. ETA on Shepherd?”

“Here!”

Amelia Shepherd burst through the doors tugging on a trauma gown of her own. She took one look at the scans printed out and nodded. “Right. OR?”

“Sounds like it,” Robbins said. 

They all grabbed a rail and dashed towards the elevator. 

“So,” Amelia watched the floors tick by, “You didn’t make it home.”

Robbins watched the floors too. “Was busy. How’d your surgery go?”

“Awesome. How’s your girlfriend?”

“Awesome.”

Cristina had a tiny urge to ask how staying at Torres’s house went. She resisted the urge. Then two hours later she resisted another urge when Robbins looked up and grinned behind her mask. 

They’d been working on the girl in comfortable silence. Though she didn’t spend much time in the OR with Robbins and she’d never been in the OR with Amelia there was still a pleasant sense of professionalism and none of the terse emotions of sharing the OR with Torres or Hahn.

But then Robbins was in the middle of a boring part of the surgery and had to look up with a grin and a desire to be entertained. “So Yang, I hear you and I are good friends.”

Shepherd looked up from her position at the kid’s head.

Cristina frowned, “I’m sorry but—“

She really hoped if she played dumb Robbins would drop it. But that stupid sparkly smile of her’s seemed to only get bigger—impressive as it was still behind a mask. 

“I’m told we’re dating,” there was a dramatic tone to her voice, “Passionately in love.”

“You too,” Shepherd asked in surprise. “Robbins is there anyone you don’t—“

“It’s a rumor,” Cristina interrupted, “or a misunderstanding. Either way I don’t think this is really the place.”

Robbins shrugged, “Was just making conversation.”

“Right,” Shepherd said. She squinted at Robbins and returned to her own work.

The surgery continued. The heart and lung work required wasn’t too extensive and Cristina could have bowed out or taken a break, but working with Robbins was surprising. With rare exceptions she was silent and intense at the table. Her eyes were narrowed in focus. Her words curt and always a breath away from sharp.

She was actually a professional and very, very good at what she did. Fascinating to watch—even for a cardiothoracic whore. So very quick and astute, but so very still.

Shepherd was a different story. Despite being a neurosurgeon—a field that required the stillest hands humanly possible—she hummed with energy. She was constantly in motion even when completely immobile. Normally it would have been distracting, but with Robbins working so efficiently across from her Cristina found herself at relative ease.

She reconsidered what she’d told Meredith the day before. Would it really be so bad? Bound forever and a day with a woman who probably wore underwear with butterflies on it but who could eviscerate a kid and put them back together without blinking? And Robbins basically felt the same way Cristina did around the kids. Sure she masked it behind a bright smile and a high pitch to her voice but her frown was practically permanent when the kids weren’t around and she was the first to escape the house when the opportunity presented itself.

They could be…allies. Against the kids and their respective partners and holy hell—

She was doing it. Cristina was planning a life. Looking beyond the next surgery. She wasn’t even thinking about the surgery she realized. She was standing there providing suction and watching Robbins manipulate intestine when she could be out in the Pit looking for a cardio case or in the research lab working on her paper.

The realization struck her so violently that for a moment—just a millisecond—she froze. Cristina was a racehorse. She was the frickin’ **Gunther**. Cristina didn’t freeze in the OR and she certainly didn’t scrub in on a general peds surgery so she could plot an alliance with her boyfriend’s ex-wife’s girlfriend.

She was a damn fine surgeon and not this—stop it.

She readjusted her grip. Across from her Robbins paused just a moment. Then flashed that stupid grin again, “Fantasizing about me?”

“Not in the way you think,” she responded a little too impolitely. Wait. She looked at Robbins incredulously, “Are you flirting with me?”

“It’s good to flirt in the OR Yang. Keeps things lively.”

She hazarded a glance at Shepherd who was tilting her head and watching Robbins in confusion.

“Yang,” Shepherd called, slowly dragging her eyes away from the oblivious Robbins, “How’s the hunt for a fellowship going?”

Robbins glanced up, still perky, “I hear you’re the resident to beat when it comes to offers,” she said brightly.

“I am,” Cristina responded evenly, “And I haven’t decided.”

“Hopkins,” Shepherd suggested. “Robbins and I could be biased on that one though.”

Robbins shrugged.

“Mayo actually. And UCLA. They’re my top choices—after Seattle.”

“We’re pretty amazing here,” Robbins noted, “Probably the best cardio department in the country. Solid trauma department too.”

 

####

Cristina ripped her mask off and turned on Arizona as soon as they were out of the OR. “Did I do something to you?”

Arizona blinked. Her mouth flopped open like a fish. It probably wasn’t a good look for her. “No,” she finally said. Elongating the vowel and turning the statement into a question. 

Cristina ran her hand over her scrub cap with one hand, gesturing to the OR with the other. “Then what the hell was that in there,” she asked in a harsh whisper. 

“Conversation.” She’d been having fun. For the first time in a long time she was having fun. And there in the OR for another first in a long time, she was surrounded by friends. Which, admittedly, was a weird thing to categorize Yang as.

Cristina stepped close, almost menacingly, but her voice was pleading and nearly congenial, “Well in the future make it with someone else.” She spun on her heel.

“Wow. She kind of hates you.” That was Amelia, just coming from the OR and untying her mask.

“I was trying to be friendly.”

Amelia threw her mask into the hazardous waste bin and went to the sink to wash her hands. “I could see that. You busted out the big guns.” She ticked them off with soapy fingers. “Flirting. More flirting. And veiled insinuations about her boyfriend.”

“I…it was good conversation.”

“Maybe between residents in the lounge. Not between a resident and attending in the OR.” She grabbed a towel and turned to lean against the sink, her voice dropping an octave to scold, “Which you already know.”

Arizona kicked the sink on with her foot and washed her own hands. Lather and rinse. More than she should. She did know better. Usually at work she had professionalism coming out of every orifice. She was **Ms.** Professionalism. Before she’d dated Callie most of the hospital (excluding some very cute nurses and half the Derm and Path departments) hadn’t even known she was gay! She never flirted. She was friendly, but always a little distant. She was good at that. Separating the hellion of Johns Hopkins from the Seattle Grace’s head of Peds.

But there in the OR she’d been all “Hey! Here’s my buddy Cristina. We know nothing about each other but we move furniture together and work to tolerate the small children of the people we sleep with!”

And not even because Arizona was only sleeping with Callie in the non-sexy morning breath and bad hair kind of way. Cristina was getting the good sleeping with the touching that wasn’t numbed by painkillers and a big broken leg.

So what did they really have in common?

“I was in…in a good mood,” she said half-heartedly. “It’s weird too. Because what do I have to be happy about right? The kids I babysit? The mess that is Peds with Addison in a coma? The coma? My girlfriend can’t even get to the bathroom without a walker and a lot of unsexy grunting.” She looked up for an answer. Because she couldn’t understand all the good feelings herself.

Amelia just winced in sympathy.

Dejectedly Arizona kicked off the sink and grabbed a towel. There wasn’t any understanding from Amelia. At least she was willing to be a sounding board. “And I’m just feeling **euphoric** ,” she explained, “And I can’t stop.”

“You survived a plane crash.”

“A lot of people do.”

“Not…exactly. It’s kind of rare. And to be—you and Webber are already back at work. Derek and Torres are alive and healthy. Addison…”

Was in a coma.

“Is alive. Most people can’t so that. So I’m pretty sure that when you survive a plane crash you can get to all giddy and annoyingly exuberant for a while. Just,” she quickly amended, “Not with terrifying residents who seems to hate all attendings except for the one she’s banging.”

“And Teddy.”

Amelia rolled her eyes. “Don’t even get me started on that one. You know she’s clearly fawning over Hunt and being Yang’s besty in the OR. It’s sad.”

Arizona shrugged, “It’s sweet. She can be friends—“

“With them? No. If you’re in love with someone you’re either with them or you hate them.”

She raised and eyebrow. “I never considered you an all or nothing romantic Shepherd.”

“I never was one.”

Unsaid was that that had changed. Now she had Lexie Grey and they’d managed to become some weird little co-dependent love nest. She felt a brittle happiness for Amelia. After everything she’d done she’d found someone. Changed because of them. Become, to a large degree, better because of it.

Arizona didn’t feel changed. Her affection—love for Callie didn’t feel transformative. As right as it felt she could perceive no difference in herself. Not like Amelia and Lexie.

Was she just stuck? Or would it come later—after the elation of her survival receded maybe some great change in herself would be revealed.

But maybe…she couldn’t feel a change in herself. Maybe the simple desire for one was change enough?

 

####

Callie stretched from the waist up and and groaned as her shoulders popped and a very good night’s rest slipped out of her muscles.

A very, very good night.

Not in a sexy way because all the horniness was tamped down by the painkillers and the accompanying nausea of the painkillers. It had just been the closeness. Arizona slipping under the covers and putting her head on Callie’s shoulder and her arm around her waist and falling asleep at an enviable pace.

The warmth of her along her side had been better than any hot water bottle. But more than that it was the smell of her and the way her body seemed to fit neatly against Callie like a puzzle. How one hand wrapped around her arm to hold herself close and the other drew lazy patterns from her hip up to her ribs.

Her leg didn’t hurt as much. Her apprehension about her father wasn’t quite as bad. It was just the two of them in that bed. A safe little cocoon where they didn’t need words. They could just disappear into one another and leave the world behind.

After Arizona left for surgery her scent had lingered. Callie had taken the pillow, still warm with her body heat, and settled it over her face. Inhaling the perfection that was Arizona Robbins and falling back to sleep with her comforting weight upon her.

Then the pillow was violent pulled away and the sun was shining from the window straight into her eyes and her father was staring at her with some murky expression on his face that sent her empty stomach straight down into her brand new knee.

“Mija,” he said, “we need to talk.”


	13. Chapter 13

Callie ignored her leg and pushed herself up, shoving Arizona’s pillow behind her back for support—and maybe also out of irrational fear that her father would smell Arizona on it.

He carefully closed the door behind himself and took a seat at the edge of her bed. “How are you,” he asked, “hungry? The kids just ate but I could make you something.”

“I think juice is probably all I can handle.”

He held up a bottle of orange juice, “Then it’s a good thing I brought this.” He handed it to her and watched her all paternally as she unscrewed the lid and took a sip. “Allegra and the boys suggested the bottle. So you wouldn’t spill it.”

“I have smart kids.”

“You do.” 

He squinted. Studied her. The few sips of juice hit her empty stomach violently. Or maybe it was just the nerves. She could feel it coming. A conversation she was terrified of.

All she really wanted to do was run (or in her case shuffle) and hide, or deflect the conversation. But she remembered that moment months before on Arizona’s stairwell. The way they’d held each other and taken solace in simple touching. And Arizona’s plea against her lips, “Please don’t make me a secret.”

Then she’d gone and done just that. She never actively hid their relationship at work, but she didn’t flaunt it like she would have with a man. And her kids. She lied to them. Daily. Lied to her father. Her mother. 

She’d turned her lover into a secret. Hidden her, and herself. Become a liar because it had been so much simpler than the truth. Now, for Arizona and whatever they **could** have she could stop. Her stomach settled. 

“Daddy?”

He inhaled deeply, “Arizona spent the night.”

It wasn’t an accusation. So that was good. No. Great! Only she couldn’t bring herself to reflect all the joy on her insides, “She did,” she said evenly.

He tilted his head, his watery blue eyes continuing to study her like a report from the hotel. Then he snapped, shaking his head and sighing all at once. “Mija, she’s gay,” he said plainly.

Here it comes.

“I know.”

“She’s in a relationship. A happy one by all accounts. I know you’re upset and she’s very nice, a blessing to all of us right now, but you can’t take advantage of that friendship.”

“Daddy…” On the bright side he liked Arizona.

“You’re lonely. I understand. Sad. You two have a bond and I understand that too. But I worry Calliope. You spending so much time with her. It’s unhealthy. Especially when you know she can give you what you need.”

And here it was.

Callie sucked in a deep breath, tucking her chin to her chest to keep from looking at her father. But she had to. So she exhaled. Looked up. “The thing is…” just say it Calliope Iphigenia Torres. You’re not a scared little girl. You’re a kick ass surgeon and mother and you love your father and he loves you and spit it out. “She does give me what I need.”

She looked at him seriously and prayed he inferred her words correctly.

He didn’t. “Certainly now. But what about later? What about when you’re ready to get married again sweetheart? Getting this close to her will only hurt you, her, and her girlfriend.”

Damn it. Why couldn’t he just get it? Why couldn’t he stop protectively blustering and just read between the lines? She’d laid it all out. But no, he needed more.

“Daddy.” This was it. No intimations. No significant looks. This was the truth. The orange juice burned in her stomach and blood roared in her ears. “Cristina’s not her girlfriend.”

She paused just long enough to note his dawning confusion.

“I am.”

And then her father’s face fell like it never had before and Callie was struck with the notion that she was a complete and utter disappointment.

 

####

It was perverse what she was doing. Using him like that.

But Arizona was too happy to properly function at work. She needed a downer. So she slipped into the eery silence of Addison’s room where Mark would look at her in silence and suck any joy from her soul. 

And sure enough Mark was there. He still came to work. He still did his surgeries. But his beard was thick and his arms had turned spindly. Her room had become his home. His work was stacked on one side of the couch, a blanket to ward of chills was wadded up on the other. There was even a crib snatched from the nursery for his daughter.

And there he was, a sullen shadow. 

“Heard you’re back to work.” His voice was rough. Hoarse from crying. Just hearing the tiny cracks in it broke Arizona a little.

“Mark.”

What could she say? What hadn’t been said? Their conversations had become cars on a well worn track. They each had their little car they’d slip into and they drove around and around chasing each other and never, ever ending.

But she came into the room, and she did it anyways.

“Mark, please. Look at me?”

He didn’t. His eyes were on Addison’s sallow face. Just watching him watch her. Watching his eyes dart up to her monitors before quickly falling back to her chapped lips. It tore her down. He didn’t fare much better than her (consciousness aside). He was so skinny and haunted. He hadn’t even been there in the woods but here was the love of his life lying in a bed and stuck in some abyss and dragging him down with her.

She found the tub of moisturizer Amelia had left in the bathroom and returned to the bed, pulling down the rail and sitting next to Addison’s still form. Mark quietly reached through the rail on the opposite side to take Addison’s hand in his.

But his eyes followed Arizona’s movements.

“Amelia said you should do this at least twice a day.” She scooped cream out of the jar and gently applied it to Addison’s face. The skin, parched in the dry air of the hospital, greedily absorbed the cream. “Said Addison will be livid if she wakes up with ashy, dry skin.”

Mark still said nothing so Arizona continued her ministrations in silence. It was such an odd thing. Clinical, but not. This was her colleague. A friend even. It didn’t disturb her but she found it unnerving all the same. In the woods it had been easy to treat friends and colleagues like patients. Here in the hospital she could only see Addison over the form of a baby in the OR or leaning against the nurse’s station with reading glasses perched on her nose and those million dollar hands jammed into her pocket. Carefully she massaged the cream into her cheeks and lips and tried to banish the image of the living woman from her thoughts.

Mark’s hand, trembling more than usual, snuck out to touch those now moist lips. But his fingers hovered just above her mouth, his hand perfectly rigid even as it shook.

Arizona twisted to watch his face. And then he looked up at her looking for all the world like a lost child. “I can’t lose her.”

A friend would say, “you won’t.” A doctor would say, “you might.”

Arizona, torn between two roles, said nothing.

 

####

After the initial shock Callie’s father delicately picked himself up, dusted himself off (all mentally of course) and left the room. She heard the vacuum run. Saw through the open door as the kids ran through the house and helped him clean all the windows. They were enjoying their respite from daycare and treating their mother’s convalescence as a holiday.

He made them lunch and then left them in front of the television with sandwiches and glasses of milk and came back to Callie with a tray. He turned to leave again and Callie realized she’d been holding her breath. It gusted out of her mouth when he shut the door and turned back around.

They were going to talk.

“I don’t understand.”

She could see Arizona’s lazy smile in her head. Her cocked eyebrow. The dare to explain in explicit details exactly what they were to each other. 

Probably not smart.

“Was it the crash? Because I know you two went through something extraordinary together and you could be confused or—“

“It wasn’t the crash.”

It was funny. She felt so serene opposite her father. There was, of course, a near desperate need for him to approve, but just as desperate was her need for Arizona. And there was no question with her. As long as Arizona **would** have her she **did**. So it soothed Callie.

“This man. The man who ran from me. He hurt you yes? And now Arizona is some—“

“I was with her before the crash. For over a month.” Officially. But longer unofficially. Since that kiss in the bathroom. The night Arizona had shown her the exquisite cruelty of love, and its most sincere tenderness.

She was so caught up in the memories of Arizona that night, her haunted blue eyes and the press of her lips hard against Callie’s own, and the way her tongue had swept into Callie’s mouth, drinking her in and begging to be drunk in return, that she missed her father’s shock.

“You and Owen. Because of her?”

“And Cristina.”

His eyes nearly bugged out of their sockets, “You’re dating her too!”

That squashed a little of her serenity. She jerked in surprise. “What? No! No, she’s with Owen.”

“Because of you and **her**.” Still no venom, just extreme disappointment.

“Because Owen and I were done and they picked up the pieces.”

His face fell. “It was a mistake, you marrying him. You coming out here so far away from home. It was a mistake—“

“Daddy.”

Arizona and Owen had both teased her about rambling when she was upset. Apparently it was an inherited trait because her father was trying to tuck her into her bed as he rambled off his plans to “fix” her. “You’re coming home. You and the kids will come to Miami. You can recuperate there. Get better. And—“

“Daddy I’m not moving back home.”

“You’re dating a woman because that **man** hurt you! You’re confused. Scared. You need your family.”

She stuck her chin out defiantly, “I have family here. People I love—“

“You have infatuation here. Arizona Robbins is an infatuation.”

“She’s my girlfriend.”

He slapped his hand violently down into the mattress startling them both. “She is not your girlfriend. I don’t know what she is, but she’s not that. **You’re** not that.”

“I have been,” she challenged, “I am.”

He rolled his eyes, standing up to get away from her subtle goading. “I don’t want to hear—“

“You were fine when it was Cristina and Arizona. But now it’s me and Arizona and—what? It’s wrong?”

“Yes.”

And there in a single word the conversation ended. Not because Callie wanted it to, but because her father was bound and determined to put every ounce of finality he could into that single word. There was no opening for debate. No way to have him see things other ways. There was a fundamental difference of opinion.

She worked her mouth in an attempt to overcome the shock moving through her—in an attempt to find some words to counter what he’d said. But nothing came out.

And her father didn’t bother to defend himself or even expound upon what he’d said. His jaw was set firmly and his eyes had turned to frigid beady ice chips set into his skull. 

They stared at each other, a daughter and a father with absolutely nothing left to say.

 

####

The only reason Arizona didn’t hop on her bike and head straight back over to Callie’s for after work was because she was still in yesterday’s clothes and kind of, okay maybe a lot, stinky.

She went back to her own apartment, pausing downstairs to check her mail. As an afterthought she got Mark and Addison’s mail too. Sorting it into important and unimportant stuff and catalogues. Mark had never actually given her the key to his box. She’d picked it up on her way out of Addison’s room. He hadn’t even noticed, too intent on staring at the woman slowly drifting away from him.

Instead of heading into her apartment where dinner, a shower and a new change of clothes waited she slipped into Mark’s apartment. It was dark, and far from how the fastidious surgeon usually kept it. Dirty dishes in the sink. Empty boxes of formula stacked on the trashcan. It wasn’t a home any longer. 

Abigail’s room was the only respite from the clutter. Versus the rest of the house it was pristine. The mobile over the crib was free of dust and there was a warm glow from the lamp that had been left on in the corner. She slumped into the rocker opposite the crib and stared at this one last refuge for Mark.

He really was losing everything. Losing himself in his grief. She’d thought of Mark as strong, but faced with the prospect of losing his fiancé he’d turned so…weak. She was losing him too. As though the crash hadn’t taken enough from them all it was stealing away the one true friend she had.

Eventually she pushed herself out of the chair and turned off the lamp. She packed another bag of clothes for Mark and Abigail and set the mail on top of Abigail’s bag—it’d be the one Mark was more likely to look in anyways. She went through the apartment and made sure nothing potentially hazardous had been left on and slipped back into her own apartment.

Which was far homier. The lights were on, the living room was tidy, and from the smell of it Amelia was cooking. “Hey,” she called from the door, “I was just picking some stuff up over at Mark’s. I’m gonna shower and eat and then head back over to Callie’s…” her voice trailed off as she took in the tableau in her kitchen.

A topless Amelia was sliding off the counter next to the stove as Lexie stepped back and hastily wiped her hand off on a towel. Both of them were flushed and had lips so bruised Arizona felt a twinge of jealousy.

Lexie ducked her head in reasonable embarrassment but Amelia stared, daring Arizona to say anything.

“You’re disinfecting the counter.”

Amelia grinned. She opened her mouth—probably to mention their own sex acts on that very same counter—but then her gaze flickered over Lexie briefly and her mouth snapped shut.

“Shower. When I get back this room should smell like lemon disinfectant and a plate of that pasta should be laid out for me.”

Lexie nodded hurriedly. “Sure. Um—“

She jutted her chin in the direction of the towel still in Lexie’s hands. “And please don’t use that kitchen towel to cook.” The other woman flushed an even deeper shade of scarlet. Amelia rolled her eyes but said nothing.

After taking a luxuriously long shower. Arizona flopped onto her bed, still wet, and let the warm air of her bedroom dry her off. The hot mess lovers in the other room had stopped with all the dirty sex in the kitchen and returned to jovial meal preparation. She closed her eyes letting the homey sounds and smells flood her senses.

It was another reason to be happy. Callie. Those two women in the other room. They were all signs that the world kept spinning after tragedy. Somewhere out there Erica’s ex hated Arizona with a fiery passion and her best friend slipped further into depression and a little girl’s mother remained in a coma but in her apartment and at Callie’s she was in a cocoon of contentedness. 

Her mind flickered over the Mark problem and just as quickly away. She needed to deal with it—with him but part of her was so happy with precisely where she was that she couldn’t bring herself to do it.

“Tomorrow,” she assured the ceiling. “We’ll fix him tomorrow.”

Being a ceiling it didn’t respond.

But her phone rang…so that was something?

She rolled off the bed with a groan and pulled her phone out of her bag. Which had accidentally been buried under her dirty clothes.

“Hello?”

“Arizona?”

The sweet relief at hearing Callie’s voice was marred by the sniffle she heard over the phone. “Callie? Is everything okay?”

Another sniffle, this one muffled by a hand or pillow or something. “No—yes. I don’t—I told him.”

Oh. “Oh.”

“I know you were supposed to come by tonight but he’s… he’s not taking it well.”

“How are you taking it?”

A shaky sigh. “I’m trying.”

She was failing. Arizona would never say it to Callie. Nor would she express her deep disappointment over Carlos’s reaction. Callie didn’t need that. She needed Arizona. She could hear it in her voice.

“Callie, do you want me to come over?”

“My dad—“

Didn’t matter to Arizona. Not when it came to this. Callie was an adult. A divorced mother of three with a fantastic job and a freakin’ mortgage. Her father would not control her just because she was stuck in bed with a gimpy leg. “What about you Callie?”

Silence on the line. It made Arizona angry. Furious even. Not that Callie couldn’t say, but that she had been made so uncomfortable by her own father that she couldn’t express the simplest of desires.

That settled it.

“I’m on my way.”

 

####

Arizona didn’t leave it open for discussion. One minute she was on the phone and the next there was dead air. Callie leaned back against the pillows with a huff. Great. No, actually great. She’d been terrified that she’d call and there’d be platitudes and assurances and Arizona might disappear.

Instead there’d been a fire in her voice that Callie rarely heard and it did all sorts of fun things to her body. Delighting her intellectually and **really** turning her on. She’d been in so much pain lately that the idea of anything more than a hug didn’t appeal, until her girlfriend had virtually growled into the phone before hanging up.

She grinned at the image of a butch Arizona Robbins. It was so incongruent with the woman herself, who tended to be super feminine and shiny.

Her father came in twenty minutes later to find her still smiling. “What’s got you so happy,” he asked all politely. Like he wasn’t furious at her and trying to forcibly move her to another state. 

She almost told him Arizona was coming over, but another round of fights (this would be the fifth of the day) exhausted her just thinking about it. Instead she redirected his attention, “Are the kids in bed?”

“For twenty minutes. I talked with your mother. We can put the boys and Allegra in the guest bedrooms and you can take the pool house.”

“Daddy—“

He held up his hand to stop her protests, “I know. You don’t want to. You think I’m controlling your life, but Mija look around you. Look how unhappy you are!”

“She looks pretty happy to me.”

A red faced and breathless Arizona was sagging against the doorframe, her wet hair clinging to her skull and her sweat pants and cycling jacket damp and in disarray. She’d never looked more stunning.

“Arizona,” Carlos breathed, as surprised as Callie. “What are you—?”

“I came to see Callie.” She moved into the room like a powerful dream, standing in between Callie and her father and somehow coming off as both menacing and mollifying at once.

Her father glanced at Callie and then back at Arizona. She half expected him to tell Arizona to leave like some villain in a Victorian drama. He’d grab Arizona by the arm and fling her out and lock Callie’s door, forbidding her to ever see that woman again. Possibly he’d grow a mustache and twirl it. She even tensed in anticipation.

Only her father wasn’t an evil villain. He backed out of the room, his eyes never leaving them. “Don’t stay too long,” he warned congenially.

“Sure,” Arizona said. The door slammed shut in her father’s face even as Arizona agreed. She flipped the lock and took a deep breath before turning to face Callie. “Hey,” she said softly.

Callie refused to cry, but her voice was a bit more traitorous and shook when she greeted her, “Hey.”

Then Arizona was crossing the expanse between them in an instant, climbing onto the bed and cupping Callie’s face in her hands and kissing her tenderly.

Callie’s fingers dug into the damp fabric on Arizona’s back and she sobbed into her mouth. It was as though her girlfriend understood her intuitively, flooding her senses with the smell of rain and Arizona and driving away the horrible day with cool lips and an ardent tongue.

She towered over Callie while on her knees and supported them both with those perfect hands of hers. When the kiss threatened to exhausted Callie Arizona seemed to sense it and fell into a wet hug that didn’t even bother her.

“Sorry it took me so long.”

“You’re right on time,” she gasped.

Arizona leaned back again and brushed the hair from Callie’s face. “Are you okay?”

“No,” she said. And the tears that quickly said were evidence enough.

Arizona tried to hush her and leaned in, pressing her lips to the wet tracks along Callie’s face and murmuring against her cheek.

When she’d finally let herself settle enough she pulled away and looked at her still soaked girlfriend. “You’re all wet.”

She motioned lamely outdoors, “I just got out of the shower and then it was raining and—“

“There are dry clothes in the closet.”

She kissed Callie again on the cheek and hopped off the bed, dragging the now less than dry comforter off in the process and replacing it with a big blanket from the window seat. She stripped off her sopping clothes as she crossed the bedroom, revealing inch after glorious inch of damp perfect skin that Callie had stupidly missed while sobbing in her arms. She pulled on a giant sweatshirt and shorts and came back to the bed, scooting across the mattress and pulling Callie into another, drier hug. 

“I’m sorry,” she said. Now apologizing simply for the awful circumstances they’d found themselves in.

Callie wasn’t. Not when she got to dig her hands into the excess cloth of the shirt and deeply inhale the mixture of Arizona’s clean scent and her own laundry. She’d needed the hug all day, not even realizing she craved it until Arizona’s arms were around her.

“I had better days stuck on a mountain,” she mumbled into Arizona’s chest.

Lithe hands combed through her hair and a set of coral pink lips pressed softly to the top of her head. Her girlfriend chose to say nothing, but she exuded a warm solace Callie found she desperately needed, and she sank further into the embrace, tweaking her bad leg and not even caring.

“He wants to pack me and the kids up and move us back to Miami.”

“I thought he was staying here for work?”

“Apparently his daughter’s deviancy is worse. The move will straighten me out.”

Arizona’s chest vibrated with a laugh, “In more ways than one.”

Callie had to laugh too. 

“Here,” Arizona moved them and Callie’s pillows so that Callie was between her legs she was leaning against the back of the bed. She rubbed her hands vigorously over Callie’s bare arms, “Didn’t want your leg to act up with all the cuddling.”

The new position was just as good as the old one. Better even, as her leg didn’t hurt as much and she had access to two shapely and unblemished legs that she could run her hands up and down.

A comfortable silence fell over them. Which was unusual. Callie tended to process everything out loud when she could. She’d spent the entire day caught between outrage and self-pity and wanted nothing more than to wallow in a good rant. Now having Arizona wrapped around her like a blanket she was content to stare at nothing in particular and soak up all the comfort her girlfriend offered.

“Was it this bad for you,” she eventually asked. She had to crane her neck to study Arizona’s thoughtful expression. “Like did your dad try to send you to military school or anything?”

“No. He threatened though. I was that really tough lesbian who wasn’t afraid to get in a fight and I started getting A minuses.”

“Oh well, that’s the end of the world.”

Arizona squeezed her gently with her thighs and Callie settled back against her chest. “It was for the Colonel. I mean, I think he and my mom always new you know? My room was covered in Cindy Crawford posters and I kept stealing the Playboy that my brother and Nick “found.” So I guess it wasn’t that big a surprise to them. The rotation of straight girl I had for sleepovers in which there was no sleeping though—“

“In your parents’ house?”

“Only until my mom figured it out. She all but dragged me into a family meeting with the Colonel. And there was a lecture, and then I had to hear my mom use the word “dental dam” and everything just kind of…settled.”

“That must have been nice.”

Arizona dragged her foot up and down the calf of Callie’s good leg and plant another kiss on her ear. “It was I guess. The whole sexuality thing was one thing my parents always handled well.”

“One thing?” Arizona rarely discussed her parents or even her family. Callie knew about the brother and the never settling down and that she seemed to talk to her parents every day, but that really didn’t actually explain much. Not with someone as emotionally cloistered as Arizona. 

“You’re trying to distract me from your own problems Calliope.”

“I’m curious.”

She felt Arizona shrug, “There’s not much to say. I love my parents. They’re not perfect and at least once a year I want to strangle them but—“

“They’re your parents.” That was part of the problem. Callie was stuck reconciling that father at Christmas with the angry man who’d stood in her room earlier. Trying to understand how someone she loved so much could share the same body as someone who horrified her.

Arizona nodded, “Exactly.”

“He’s supposed to love me unconditionally.”

“He’s still here.”

“Yeah, because he thinks he can “fix” me.” Arizona continued to caress Callie even as she felt her rant ramp up. “I just don’t get it. I don’t get **him**. I’m the same woman that I was yesterday. Nothing’s changed.”

“But you like girls now.”

“I did yesterday too.”

“And he didn’t know that.”

“But I’m still me.” She pushed herself out of Arizona’s arms and tried to swivel to look at her. “Shouldn’t he see that?”

Arizona bit her lip. “Yeah,” she whispered, “he should.” She tugged on Callie again to return her to her very comfortable supine position. “In a perfect world your dad shouldn’t find me repugnant today after liking me yesterday. And he sure as hell shouldn’t be planning to ship you off. But he is. And he’s also still your dad.”

“Are you telling me to let this go, because I got to admit that seems distinctly un-Arizona.”

“No. God no. I’m just saying,” she paused, “I’m just saying…it freakin’ sucks.”

“I just want him to get it.”

“I know.”

Her throat started burning, heralding the onset of tears more tears. 

“Why won’t he get it?”

Arizona had no words. Just an embrace that could not contain Callie’s sobs.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dirty. And to my fellow Americans may your post feast day be full of delicious leftovers and good online deals.

His dad had never been present. Other dads showed up for school recitals or parent days. The other kids’ parents all knew each other and arranged sleep overs. His dad worked.

His mother worked too. And then she died.

And his dad worked more.

And he found new parents. Derek’s parents.

And this **his** dad died.

And Mark’s dad just kept working. And Derek’s mom became even more present for her own kids, and for Mark.

When he was forced to retire Mark had just assumed his dad would start talking to him. Once he had the time he’d get to know his son. He’d be proud of his successes and disappointed with his failures.

Instead his dad bought a good tv and a great couch and committed himself to watching every sport available for broadcast legally. Their house became a tomb that disturbed the other kids. The only good thing was the drone of the television could become white noise—great for studying, and he never had to worry about his dad balking when he brought a girl home. He didn’t even have to **sneak** by the bastard.

But Carolyn stopped inviting them both for Thanksgiving and reminding them to bring the rolls and pie. Instead she’d just pull Mark aside a few days before and remind him to show up on time and hungry. He’d still bring a pie though. One he’d buy at the bakery with money stolen from his dad’s wallet.

Carolyn Shepherd deserved it more than that grump anyways.

He loved Derek’s mother, and he hated his own father. Despised the man who couldn’t find time for his dying wife or his living son or the world outside his own very narrowly constructed one.

He promised himself he wouldn’t be his father. 

And he wasn’t.

His father never would have hurt his best friend by having an affair with his best friend’s wife. He never could have fallen in love. Never could have moved across the country and built a life from scratch.

Mark had. For a few months he’d had everything his father never had and never could.

Then a plane took his fiancé away and his two best friends disappeared. Arizona tried. She came by and sat awkwardly and engaged in the most shallow of small talk, all the while coiled with energy. She had a life of her own. A lover that was hurt and needed her and as much as she wanted to be there for Mark it was Callie that always came first.

And Derek.

Derek couldn’t even talk to him before the crash. Afterwards with his messed up hand and his doe-eyed resident?

Mark just wanted his friend back. He wanted his whole world back. He wanted Arizona on the couch drinking too much tequila and telling him he had a beautiful love ad he wanted Derek teasing him with a condescending smirk and he wanted the woman on the bed in front of him to open her eyes.

It was so easy to do. He did it all the time. Their daughter couldn’t use a toilet but she could do this one thing.

And Addison couldn’t.

Just open them. Wake up and look and maybe smile and ask why you have a catheter shoved up your vajayjay and then get annoyed that everyone was using Bailey’s euphemism for vagina, which, technically, wasn’t even where the catheter was.

But she just kept sleeping.

She was his dad on the couch. Running away.

And Mark was so tired of chasing after her. All he wanted to do was rest. He wanted the ache in his chest to go away and the tingling feeling of sleep in his limbs to disappear and he just wanted his fiancé back.

And he really, really wanted to be able to sleep.

But he couldn’t just yet. He couldn’t be his dad. He had to stay awake for his daughter and his friends and he had to be there when she finally opened her eyes.

He had to.

 

####

Callie could only assume she’d drifted off at some point because when she opened her eyes again she felt more comfortable than she had in weeks. It was still dark outside and a quick glance at the clock said it was just after midnight.

Arizona was still wrapped around her, her chin balanced delicately on the top of Callie’s head and her hands stroking Callie’s sides almost as an afterthought.

“You’re still here,” she asked the reflection in the window.

Arizona pressed her lips to the top of Callie’s head. “Yup.”

Callie sank back into her. “Thank you.”

“I like being here.”

“Mmm. My dad show up?”

“Nope. We are Carlos free for the moment.”

Callie swung her legs off the bed and grabbed her walker. Hefting herself up with a grunt. She turned back and saw Arizona watching her with surprise. “Bathroom.”

Arizona started to get up as well. “Do you need—“

“I think I can do the bathroom by myself,” she said. She hoped she could. In fact it was actually almost easy shuffling across the hardwood floor. Her leg didn’t even hurt.

Arizona, now no longer functioning as a pillow, spread out on the bed. “You shamble very adorably,” she called from the other room.

Callie bit back a smile. “I was going more for a graceful sloping.”

“That works too. Though I admit to being busy watching parts of you besides your legs.”

Callie came back out. The lights had dimmed while she was in the bathroom and glowed on Arizona’s skin almost like fire light. She lay on her side facing Callie. Her gold hair shining and coquettish smile on her lips. The air in the room was slowly burning with the heat coming off of her.

Callie gulped. “My back,” she asked meekly.

Arizona’s smile grew like a Cheshire cat’s. She shook her head.

Callie slowly moved back to the bed. Her leg was no longer throbbing in the least, but other parts of her had begun to throb very, very pleasantly. “I dreamt about you, you know.” 

Arizona raised an eyebrow. Her fingers stroked the sheets where Callie had been previously. “Really?”

Callie nodded. She had to turn away so she could sit down and then swing her leg back onto the bed. With Arizona no longer functioning as a headboard Callie found herself sinking back until she was nearly laying down. She glanced at Arizona and glanced away just as quickly.

The other’s woman’s eyes were dark with desire Callie hadn’t seen in more than a month. She expected a soft greeting to come out of Arizona’s mouth. That’s what she always seemed to do when they were this close. Like she was too awkward to just say what she wanted.

“What kind of dream,” she asked.

Not a greeting at all.

Callie reached up to stroke Arizona’s face. Just stuck her fingers out and traced them across the impossibly smooth skin. “You were like this. Only nakeder.” Her heart beat nearly out of her chest at the forwardness. They could be flirty, but this was bordering on brazen.

Arizona moved like a very tiny and very quick cat, straddling Callie before her brain could quite process it. What her brain could process was those perfect thighs clamped around her waist and the sliver of skin she saw just above the pants.

“This wasn’t in the dream,” she croaked. Her fingers were having minds of their own. Dragging their way up her thighs to touch that bit of skin. “But that’s okay.”

And now they were straight past brazen and headed for areas that required one to be seventeen or older.

Arizona’s grabbed two handfuls of Callie’s shirt and pulled her up into a bruising kiss. Sneaking her tongue past Callie’s lips and stroking hers in long, languid movements. Callie reached out for the bed to stabilize herself with one hand and thrust the other up under Arizona’s shirt to cup her bare shoulder.

Their tongues tangled in between breathless gasps. Callie involuntarily thrust up with her hips and Arizona groaned, leaning back and exposing her long neck to Callie’s mouth.

She was melting against Arizona. Dissolving into the woman’s hot hands and enveloped by her flexing thighs and the only song in her ears was her lover’s panting breath.

She trailed her hand down Arizona’s back and forward. Her thumb briefly rubbed against the skin of her belly before her fingers nimbly flicked open her pants.

“I need you,” she breathed against Arizona’s pounding pulse.

Arizona rocked again. “Inside—“ she gasped. “Now.”

Her fingers finally slipped into Arizona and it was—

Awake.

Stupid.

Stupid.

Terrible.

Awful. 

Dreams. 

Sexy dreams where her leg didn’t hurt and she could have sex with her girlfriend. She could still feel her slick heat wrapped around her fingers and the taste of skin and—

“Pleasant dream?” 

Callie flushed at the sound of Arizona’s voice behind her. 

“Sounded pleasant,” she teased.

Trapped, almost pleasantly, by Arizona’s arms and legs Callie couldn’t do anything more than groan and cover her face with her hands.

“Anybody I know in the dream?”

“We’re not doing this again”

She could **hear** the raised eyebrow.

“Because we already did this in the dream.”

“Oo. How’d it go? Was I awesome?”

“Almost great and yes.” She craned her neck to look at Arizona. “Perfect,” she murmured.

Arizona smiled brilliantly and darted forward to plant a chaste kiss on Callie’s lips. “Any other details?”

Callie looked back ahead and tried to get comfortable again. Only her leg, no longer in a dream, protested the movement. She grimaced.

Arizona dropped another kiss on Callie’s shoulder. “How you feeling?”

“It was better when I was sleeping and you were on top of me and my leg wasn’t all—”

“Want me to get some pain meds?”

“No. I’m trying to wean myself off of them.”

Arizona clucked approvingly and settled her hands around Callie’s waist.

It was an instant reminder of the unfinished dream.

“ **I’ll** have to take you mind off of it then,” she said softly into Callie’s ear. The timbre of her voice sent a shiver through her.

Her voice cracked again, “Really?”

“Mmhm.” The hands didn’t quite move, but those thumbs. Oh those thumbs. They tucked into the waist of her pajamas. Goosebumps formed wherever they went. “So this dream. Describe it to me.” One hand moved up her waist to rest gently just below her breast. Tantalizingly close. “What was it like?”

“It was like this.”

A feather light kiss behind her ear. “Only naked.”

“You were straddling me.”

One slightly cool hand dipped past her waistband. Past her underwear. “Probably not so good for your leg.”

“And my hands were in your pants.”

Electric fingers brushed slick skin. Traced her lips. “Were you gentle?” They stroked up and a single fingertip grazed her clit. “Or rough?”

Callie gasped.

“Because I like it rough some times.” Her other hand now settled on her breast. She tweaked one nipple roughly through the fabric of her t-shirt. “But I like gentle too.” Those maddening fingers dipped again this time to tease her entrance.

Callie panted Arizona’s name and Arizona’s hand left her breast to fall upon her mouth. “Shh,” she whispered, “we have to be quiet.” Knowing full well Callie wouldn’t be quiet Arizona thrust two fingers deeply into her, curling up and stroking her from the inside. She pushed Callie’s head to the side at the same moment, catching her strangled cry in her mouth. 

Her bad leg wasn’t in any position to move but she hooked her good leg over Arizon’s spreading herself further and giving Arizona more room. Which she gladly took.

She tried to cry out again. Arizona’s fingers were everywhere at once. Stroking her insides and stretching her and cupping her breasts and building her up. But Arizona’s mouth stayed on hers. 

Then it was nipping at her ear and trailing fire down her neck and her breasts were unattended as wicked fingers stroked her lips. She reached out with as wicked a mouth and took two between her teeth.

“I want you to come for me,” Arizona whispered breathlessly. Her thumb circled her clit again. Then took up a pattern independent of the thrust of her fingers.

These were the hands of a multitasking surgical genius. God she was—

“Come for me Calliope.”

It wasn’t a sudden explosion. But a rolling wave. Building and building and pulling her up with it. Her pelvis was half off the bed thrusting into that talented hand, all her weight on the foot of her good leg. She blindly reached behind her and took a handful of blond hair. Forcing Arizona up and away from her neck.

Their open mouths found each other as it all came crashing down. The thrusting turned almost gentle as she rhythmically gripped Arizona’s fingers and panted into her mouth. 

Callie finally fell back to the bed and to the cocoon of warmth between Arizona’s legs. The other woman made no effort to move the still fingers still in her center. Instead placing gentle kisses at the side of Callie’s mouth.

“Better?”

She tightened her grip on Arizona’s hair directing her down so she could plant her lips on her forehead. “No pain whatsoever.”

“It’s a new drug I’m trying to market.”

“Hm. Can I be a part of the FDA trials?”

“You’ll be our only test subject.”

She nuzzled Arizona’s hairline with her nose.

In that one moment she felt more content then she had in a long time. Before the crash. Maybe even before they’d gotten together the first time. There’d always been something then. Arizona’s fear of commitment, Callie’s fear of her sexuality. The kids. Owen. Even Amelia.

Here it was just the two of them tucked away from the rest of the world in a dimly lit bedroom.

She sank into her lover’s arms, again letting Arizona support her. She pulled Arizona’s hand out of her pants and brought it to her mouth. Kissing each wet finger before wiping them clean with tissue. Then she wrapped Arizona’s arm around her. Turning her support into an actual embrace.

Arizona said nothing. Seemingly satisfied to just be there wrapped around her.

It wouldn’t last. The pragmatist surgeon in Callie knew that. But for just a night they got to escape the world.

“I love you,” she whispered as her eyes grew heavy.

“I love you too,” her girlfriend said into her hair.

And then she was dreaming again, and it was bliss.

 

####

He was trapped. He couldn’t leave the room because his mother slept lightly and had supernatural hearing. And he couldn’t get out of bed because Cristina was lying perfectly still next to her, her breath coming slow and even and her sleep deep after a grueling forty-eight hour shift she was reluctant to talk about.

That concerned him. Cristina loved talking about work. She **was** her work. When she wasn’t telling him about it she wasn’t really herself.

And she wasn’t talking about anything else either. They used to talk about fellowships but she’d stopped since the crash. He didn’t know where she was headed or what she wanted and he was terrified he didn’t know who she was. Terrified because he loved her more than he thought possible. That concerned him.

And Callie concerned him too. She’d come out to her father. Texted him a terse, “I’m doing it” and then hadn’t responded since. He’d called and Carlos had said she was sleeping. Acted like everything was okay.

Only he knew his ex-wife. He knew Carlos.

And he knew it wasn’t any of his damn business.

But that he could worry about. That was something he understood. Callie had been an open book and had gladly shared all of herself with him and **demanded** he understood all she’d shared. She’d forced him open. Peeled him apart like the rind off an orange. Left him ragged and bare.

And it was easy. Easy to worry about what she was saying to her father and what her father, always kind and never cruel but horrifically stern, might say in return.

Because he got them and he didn’t understand anything about the enigma in his bed who hated children but comforted his. Who demanded solitude but lived with two women who refused it. Who could barely touch him and yet completely command him.

Damn it. He couldn’t just keep sitting in bed making the sheets hot beneath him and worrying about the woman he loved and the woman he once loved.

He slipped out gently, careful not to disturb a single spring in the mattress and laid out on the floor flat on his hands and the balls of his feet.

Up. Down. The burn started in his shoulders after fifteen. Spread to his chest. His thighs. Up. Down. There wasn’t Callie trapped in a house with her father. There wasn’t Cristina reluctant to speak. Not even Arizona and all the baggage she’d dragged into his family’s world.

Just the burn in his muscles and the strain on his joints.

“Owen?”

He rolled back on to his knees and toes. Cristina was sitting up in bed. Even confused and with her hair all mussed she stole every ounce of breath still in him.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m fine,” it was a knee jerk response. One he’d given Callie so many times and one he’d desperately wanted to never say to Cristina again.

Her dark eyes traced his form in the blue shadows of the night. Her voice was thick with naked concern, “Are you okay?”

He really wasn’t.

But he couldn’t say that. And he couldn’t utter that platitude again. “Go back to sleep.”

But she didn’t. She shifted on the bed until she was sitting where he normally slept, the sheets twisting around her legs.

“What is it?”

He shook his head.

“Is it Callie?” And while there was no jealousy in her voice and there never would be, there was just the barest hint of wariness. Like she’d always be chasing after her to be the one that kept him up at night.

Like she wasn’t already that person.

“No.”

“She’ll be fine you know. Carlos is intense but it’s not like he’s going to ship her off to Florida or something. And Robbins sure as hell wouldn’t let him.”

‘She’d chose someone else,’ Cristina was reminding him. ‘She has Arizona.’

“It’s not Callie,” he reiterated. It would never be her as long as Cristina was in his life.

She blinked. For an instant it hit her and she was…happy. Then it sunk in. Her face fell. She looked past his knee at some spot on the carpet.

“Oh.”

And she didn’t say a word.

And that was why he couldn’t sleep.

 

####

There was something positively cheeky about sleeping with a woman when her disapproving father was just in the next room. And there was a thrill too. One Arizona always expected to grow tired of but never did.

Only.

Callie wasn’t like all those other girls she’d slept with. The sex wasn’t about getting off on the scandal of being with a newly out or “straight” girl. When she’d instigated it the similarities to past adventures hadn’t even crossed her mind. She’d just seen her horny and in pain girlfriend and felt compelled to help her. 

As Callie slept Arizona studied her hand. It was surprising—the feeling. She missed Callie. She missed being **in** Callie. Just resting in that wet warmth had been ecstasy and her fingers itched to return to the sensitive cocoon of flesh and disappear.

Probably not a good plan when Callie was back asleep.

Instead.

She looked to the closed door and felt the beast just beyond.

Okay Carlos wasn’t a beast. The discussion they were going to have would be, but the man himself was pretty decent when he wasn’t rejecting his daughter and causing her restless sleep and heaving sobs.

She carefully extricated herself from Callie’s bed and stretched. Her vertebrae and shoulders all loudly popped and she half expected Callie to open those gorgeous brown eyes and ask what she was doing. But the other woman continued sleeping, a sated smile on her face. It prompted another on Arizona’s.

She had the urge to pinch herself. Here she was with the woman she loved. They were happy. They were together. And she could feel all the problems on the other side of the door. The kid issue. Callie’s dad. Owen. 

God that stupid kid issue. She was trying. She really was. Every day on her ride over she gave herself a pep talk. Tried to convince herself that she could do it—anything—for Callie. And every day it was like she was playing a character. Walking through Callie’s house and hugging her kids and knowing that if she really did it—if she really committed—that she’d lose so many other things in the process. She’d lose a bit of herself.

No. She had to stop thinking about it. Best to pull a Scarlett and table it for a day when Callie wasn’t recuperating from leg surgery and her father wasn’t trying to ship her across the country.

She took a moment to clean up in the bathroom so she didn’t look quite so much like the slut sleeping with the man’s daughter and then braved the foyer. It was lit only by the nightlight on the stairs. The living room, on the other hand, was still bright as early evening.

Carlos was hunched on the couch swirling what looked like scotch in a glass and staring at the bottle. A second, empty, glass sat next to the bottle. He didn’t say anything when he saw her. Just stared blankly through her and returned his gaze to the bottle label. 

Okay Arizona. Deep breath. You’ve never confronted another woman’s bigoted dad before. Not on purpose, and certainly not with the intent to heal a rift. Just take deep breaths and stay calm and—

She sat down.

“I’m not going to talk to you about this,” he growled.

She couldn’t engage him. She knew that much. Preaching like a Glee PSA wasn’t going to change his mind. Trying to act like it all hadn’t happened wasn’t going to help either.

She was going to have to dig deep and remember that psych rotation from med school.

Oh God that was more than ten years ago!

Her jeans had flared like bellbottoms and her hair. Yikes.

Wait. Focus on Carlos.

“You lied to me.”

“I didn’t.” You promised yourself you wouldn’t say anything Robbins!

Since when did she call herself by her last name?

“I thought I could trust you,” he accused.

She knew enough not to say anything to **that**. She’d just brought his daughter to an orgasm. She tucked the offending digits between her thigh and the seat cushion. As though he’d noticed even after she’d washed her hands. Maybe he’d just sense where those fingers really longed to be. Back in that bedroom and—

He was still talking. “You were supposed to be her friend and here I find out you’ve been with her. Perverting her.”

She squared her jaw and narrowed her eyes. Forcing herself to just give him a judgmental look. Laying into exactly why that was offensive wouldn’t help anyone.

“The boys look up to you. You’re their hero, and Allegra—do you have any idea what you’re doing to my daughter’s family?”

Not a clue.

He didn’t need to know that.

“I love your daughter.” It felt cathartic to say that. She’d been in love with Callie so long and bottling it so type it was like she’d been thrust back into the closet. And now she was out in the open again. A whole woman instead of one guarded in shadows and lies.

“That won’t help her out there in the real world.”

She kept her jaw clenched. It was easier than saying something she’d regret.

“She was happy before you. We were all happy. And then you swoop in and change her and seduce her when she’s having trouble with her husband. If you weren’t a woman…”

The threat should have bothered her, but was empty as his rhetoric.

“Carlos,” she started, and he looked up sharply—daring her to continue. He was furious. She knew that. She’d gotten to know him these past few weeks and she’d seen him angry with doctors and nurses at the hospital and wrathful when speaking with his staff back in Florida. She knew exactly where he was on his scale of anger.

Another time she would have tried a different tact, but she’d eaten dinner with this man and had too many to drink and share a cup of coffee while watching the kids play. He wasn’t a stranger. He wasn’t some girl’s dad. He’d been a friend for an instant and was the father of the woman she would turn herself inside out for.

 “What’s between Callie and I—“ What Arizona? The desire to lecture him on the beauty of lesbian love was far too strong. Arizona didn’t lecture about that. She never had. She couldn’t even go to a freakin’ Pride parade in college. “Is private. I haven’t even told my parents.”

Maybe not the best tact, but the truth. Sure they’d picked up on something. They still talked nearly every day. Arizona would call and tell them about work and about Mark and Addison and the aftermath of the crash. They didn’t talk about Callie. That was for her alone.

It worked though. Giving a little to get a little. That was communication.

“Are you ashamed of her?”

She hid a smile at the protectiveness in his voice. Even furious and ashamed he’d fight the Devil for his daughter.

“No,” And it all clicked into place. What had to be said. It came out so easily. “But my dad’s a Marine. Like his dad, and his dad before him. In our family it’s always been about honor and sacrifice and **commitment**.”

Carlos rolled his eyes. 

“My dad joined up as soon as he was eighteen so he could honor my grandfather’s sacrifice at Pearl Harbor. And my brother did the same when he was eighteen. When I was eighteen I committed myself to medicine.” Because she couldn’t commit herself to the military. She’d been afraid where Tim had been brave. “And now? I’m committed to your daughter. And I’d do anything for her. Including sit out here and listen to things you never would have said to me a week ago.”

“But you can’t even tell your parents,” he shot back almost weakly. 

She was terrified of telling them. Of telling him. The Colonel. 

“But she could tell you. Callie’s brave, Carlos. Braver than either one of us. And she’s honorable. And committed. Strong. We’re who are fathers raised us to be.” She remembered Callie looking back at her after her dream. Her flushed cheeks and her unruly hair and that private smile. “She’s perfect.”

They stared at each other. Neither quite knowing the words to say after her confession. Because it was a confession. More a confession of love than she’d ever really given Callie herself. Carlos didn’t hear that part of it. He’d heard everything else. 

So he just stared.

Carefully, as though too fast a movement would spook the man opposite her, Arizona stood up. “Good night Carlos.”

He said nothing. He was clearly somewhere else. Freezing out her voice and thinking on other matters.

She came into the foyer and paused. Callie’s bedroom beckoned her back to a warm bed and a warmer body. But the man at her back gave her…

 **That** would be too much. Slipping back into Callie’s bed would be far more a slap in the face than the slammed door earlier in the night. Instead she went outside, where the air was still cool and the sky was still black.

She’d go home, get some sleep and be back ridiculously early. Maybe with breakfast. A donut with pink icing and sprinkles for Allegra. She’d confessed she’d never had one before. And jelly for the boys. They both preferred fruit still to candy and chocolate. And something light for Callie, who didn’t like heavy things in the morning.

One last glance at the house and Arizona was on her bike and pedaling quickly up hill. 

And for the first time it felt like she was pedaling away from home. 


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I mentioned this elsewhere but I’ll be just focusing on this and my post-episode series for the next month or two. So downside is no Hamilton Gregg or Just Two Weeks or this epic Buffy fic I haven’t released yet. Upside? Calzona lovin’ y’all.

“Hands off the fruit!”

It was too late. More a knee jerk exclamation than an actual command. Because Percy didn’t have his hands **on** the fruit. He had his big stupid mouth wrapped around an apple from **her** basket.

“You weren’t eating it,” he said around the fruit.

She yanked the basket off the bench and clutched it to her chest. “Doesn’t mean you can Ape-Man.” She fished another apple out from between two peaches and a pile of plums and bit into it loudly. “Why don’t you go traipse after Ape-Woman over there like a good little baby gorilla instead of eating my fruit?”

April looked up from her locked and scowled. “Stop calling me Ape-Woman. Or Ape. Or **Apes**. It’s not funny.”

“I don’t know,” Meredith considered her former best friend from the doorway, “I find it pretty hilarious.”

April flushed at the sight of Meredith and rushed out of the room head down. Percy grabbed a fist full of plums and chased after her before Cristina could pelt him with the half eaten apple she still held.

“Every time. She sees you and every time.”

Mer shrugged, “I have a gift.”

Jackson, who up until that point had been his usually drama averse self sighed, “You should really lay off of her.”

Mer raised an eyebrow. “I’m sorry. When Percy sleeps with **your** fiancé you can get back to me on how to handle her.”

“She made a mistake. Over four months ago. And she and Karev aren’t even dating anymore.”

“Really,” both women said at once. They shared a look. Neither of them had heard about that. But for once Meredith didn’t seem even remotely upset about the mention of her former fiancé.

“Yeah, really. So can you just…cool it? At least until after boards?”

Meredith looked over at Cristina as if asking for input. But she really wasn’t. She just wanted Jackson to think she was. So Cristina nodded like she approved on whatever course of action her roommate would take.

“Yeah okay. I guess I can hold off until then.”

He grimaced, “You’re a real humanitarian.”

When he was gone Cristina asked what she **really** hoped they were both thinking, “So Jackson and April are a thing now huh?”

Meredith pulled her scrub top over her head, “That’s the only reason anyone ever defends the fake virgin.” Once Cristina had gotten to know Meredith she’d found her to be a surprisingly laid back woman. Especially now that she didn’t spend every waking hour sucking up to her mother. She let things roll off of her. Like that plane crash. Sure, she slept with the lights on and had gotten a little clingy, but a lot people would have been catatonic after something like that.

Hearing her getting so grouchy and petulant over **Kepner** wasn’t the new Meredith she knew.

“Ouch. Are you still actually mad with her? Because I thought that was all for the peons.”

She sighed, “No. Not really.” She thrust her arms through her coat sleeves a little more vigorously than usual. “I’m pissed at Derek. You know after his sister’s big surgery he called me and apologized? And now he’s skirting me every time I see him here at the hospital.”

She would not roll her eyes at the endless affair of Meredith and Shepherd. She would resist. Even though those two seemed to break up and get back together every two days. Even Robbins and Torres seemed to last longer than that.

“I thought you were done?”

Meredith peeked at the card on the front of Cristina’s basket. “Hopkins huh.”

“You’re changing the subject.”

“Please tell me Hopkins isn’t your first choice now. They sent you fruit.”

She glared. Meredith was really bad at changing the subject.

“At least hold out for wine. Or a lab. Anything but **fruit**.”

“Mayo sent me two bottles of wine and will pay relocation fees.”

Meredith smiled gratefully at Cristina. Silently thanking her for the conversation shift. “Mayo huh. What’s my mom offering?”

Less salary than anyone else, a shared lab with Torres and…Owen. Though the chief probably didn’t even know she was offering Owen. But he was the only thing likely to keep her there. Thus far Webber, and by extension Altman, had done little to nothing to woo her. They’d offered her a slight bump in salary, the same hours and stability. That was it.

The program wasn’t even that good. Sure she’d be able to sign for all of her own surgeries, and Torres was an able enough mentor, but they’d **both** technically be fellows. Meanwhile Mayo had Parker and Thomas, Hopkins was, well Hopkins and UCLA was the best cardiothoracic program on the west coast **and** her old stomping grounds.

The only real reason for her to stay was Owen. Owen with three kids and living in his mother’s house and spending half his free time with his ex-wife.

“She’s offering…stuff,” she said.

Meredith raised an eyebrow. “Not even wine?”

“It’s not like it even matters yet. We haven’t even taken our boards.”

“Oh like you’ll fail.”

“True. But after boards the real ass kissing begins.” She set the basket down none too lightly in her locker and held her hands out in front of her, framing an invisible car, “I’m seeing a Porche. A nice fast sports car that would make a guy’s penis envious.”

Mer laughed, “Good luck with that. My mom once low-balled Tom Evans out of a job.”

She gagged, “That’s just revolting.”

A sharp rap on the lounge door stopped them from having to relive the disaster that was the egomaniacal Ellis Grey attempting to secure a contract with the equally egomaniacal Tom Evans—heart surgery god.

A fair-haired guy in a suit that practically had “lawyer” written on a placard around his neck looked from one woman to the other trying to gauge who he should direct his question to. Cristina involuntarily tensed. Like he was about to serve her papers even though she had some of the best outcomes of any fifth year ever.

Finally he settled on Meredith. “Dr. Meredith Webber?”

She slipped her stethoscope around her neck and responded skeptically, “Yes?”

“I’m a representative for Bayview Aeronautics. I was wondering if I could speak to you for a moment?”

 

####

Waking up to find her bed empty and her dad sitting in the corner of the room in a chair and all but masked by shadows Callie had the perhaps not so irrational thought that her father had murdered her lover.

Maybe not on purpose. He had a temper and was the most intimidating man she knew, but he wouldn’t just murder her girlfriend. That was a whole other brand of crazy. Though the mattress was definitely cool. The room bare of any of Arizona’s effects. Just her and her dad.

“I don’t understand,” he said. He wasn’t asking her to explain or even condemning or accusing her as he’d done the day before. It felt, almost, like a step forward.

Even though it was seven o’clock in the morning and she had to pee.

“I’ve been up all night trying to and I just don’t understand.”

She sighed. Fine. More lecturing. “Daddy, I really can’t do this this early in the morning.” She couldn’t really do it any morning. Any time. She was done explaining herself to him. “You want to rail against the gay people do it in the mirror.”

She grabbed her walker and dragged it over, hefting herself up and turning her back on the man who still sat in the chair.

Where had Arizona gone? She hazarded a glance in the direction of the foyer.

“She left last night.”

Oh.

No. Not oh. What the hell? Did her dad force her out? Or did the two of them decide what was best for Callie like she was some invalid or child? Working around her instead of dealing with her directly?

“We talked,” he continued.

Of all the manly and condescending— “About me.”

He looked up, actually surprised at the anger in her voice. “Of course.”

She was so angry she was vibrating. Shivering all over with it. “You had no right.”

He stood up. He didn’t cross the room to be closer to her but instead stayed in place, his hands limp at his side. “I know.” Another step. “I’ve been trying to understand this Callie. Spending the better part of the last day trying to understand it. What I did. How I failed you…”

“You didn’t—“

“Because I’m old and I never thought I’d be having to hear that my divorced daughter and mother of three was gay. I’m terrified **for** you—“ She opened her mouth to tell him to stop, but he quickly continued, “But I don’t think I can stop you either.”

Callie’s brain took that exact moment to go kerplat. She was having trouble forming words, let alone a response to that. Her father stepped closer. Close enough to lay his hand on hers. 

“That woman loves you Calliope. And if I didn’t know her it maybe this would be more difficult. But I do know her and I see how much she cares. What I worry about is you Mija. Getting hurt. Already being hurt. Maybe taking advantage of her?”

“Daddy…” What could she say. How could she even respond to that?

“Do you love her?”

She didn’t even have to think, “I do.”

His hand tightened on hers. A familial gesture that took her back to childhood. His hand on hers as he guided her bicycle. Teaching her how to ride, and how not to fall.

“I get so worried about you Calliope. Even before Owen or this plane crash all I could do was worry. I spent every day worrying so much my hair fell out.” He smiled. It was an old joke between them. “And now here you are my little girl and still after everything you’ve been through? All I want to do is catch you and hold you and keep you safe.”

This wasn’t his previous erratic responses shot straight from the hip. For the first time her dad wasn’t trying to change her or lecture her. He was just…talking and she had to talk back. As angry with him as she still was and as offended as she felt over his insinuations he seemed to be really trying.

So she could try too. “I don’t need you to catch me Daddy.”

“I know.” He smiled bittersweetly, “You have that woman. I won’t say I like it because I don’t know if I can, but I want to try. For your sake Mija, I have to try.”

“Worried you’ll lose me,” she shot out.

He squeezed her hand again, “Worried I already have.”

She tugged him forward by the wrist and pulled him into a hug over her walker, “You haven’t lost me,” she said exasperatedly. “I just need you to **trust** me.”

He squeezed her tight but didn’t respond. Content instead to just continue to hug her. 

This sudden change of heart? This man in her bedroom? All because Arizona went and had a conversation with him. She was becoming irrevocably lost in a future with that woman—a woman who still in many ways remained a mystery to her.

Her dad mumbled something against her shoulder and she had to lean back, “What?”

“I’m just glad she’s not a vegetarian.”

 

####

Arizona slid to a stop in front of the bike store and wheeled in awkwardly juggling the door and the unwieldy frame of her bike. Ted, with his massive beard and tiny, tiny hat, popped up behind the counter like a burly gnome. He grinned when he saw who it was.

“Robbins!”

He nimbly leapt over the counter and gave her an impromptu one armed hug.

“Wow,” she said through an uncomfortable laugh, “that was exuberant.” She was friendly enough with the people at her local bike shop, having gone on more than one ride with them, but they’d never exactly reached hug status.

“We heard about your plane crash,” he said seriously. He studied her, his eyes combing every part of her, as if remnants of the crash still lingered on her physically.

They didn’t. And she’d done a good job pushing all the mental remnants down too—forcing it to sit next to Tim’s death and her dad’s PTSD in a place as far from her regular thoughts as possible. It was the only way she’d found to really succeed at surviving. She couldn’t dwell on past mistakes. She had to duck her head down and push forward.

So she smiled half heartedly, “I’m fine.”

He continued to appraise her. Then nodded. “You look it. A month after a plane crash and you’re back on the bike?”

“I was getting stir crazy.”

“I figured the crash was why you didn’t make it in to pick up your order.”

She wracked her brain for memory of what exactly she could have ordered. She’d come by to pick up new tubes for her tires and maybe inquire about new wheels. Her current wheels had been bent but not totaled when she’d wrecked on a hill not long after Amelia came to stay with her and though she’d gotten them repaired she found they still didn’t ride as true as they had before.

But she hadn’t ordered anything…

Then she remembered around the same time Ted motioned to bike over in the corner. It wasn’t like her current one. It was…fancy looking. Scary. The kind of thing that could send a person down a hill at over forty miles an hour. All carbon fibre and sleek alien curves. It was the kind of very expensive bike that a woman would totally splurge on after breaking up with Callie more than two months before.

Her wallet was going to hurt. The thing was basically the bike equivalent of a mid-life crisis and really it was Ted’s fault for letting her order the damn thing.

“Gotta say, this was fun to build. We don’t usually get a request for something quite so—“

Flashy? Pricy?

“Awesome,” he grinned.

When on earth would she even find the time to ride the beast? Sure if she were some badass racer or spent her weekends doing a few hundred miles she could see the need. But she’d been planning on getting Callie and the kids out of the house this weekend. Maybe a movie or the park or something. Nothing too strenuous what with Callie probably on crutches by then.

“Ted,” she said, her tone just trepidatious enough to maybe warn him.

His face fell, “You’re going to say you can’t afford it.”

“No! No, I can. I just—it may have been a mistake.”

He tilted his head.

“It’s just…this is a lot of bike and I definitely wanted something fast and neat but this might be…too much.”

He leaned back against the counter and crossed his arms, “So what do you want to do? I hate to get all financial on you but you **did** order it and it’s kind of expensive.”

Kind of? She was now remembering exactly how much she’d promised to pay for it. Her own bike was a flat bar fat tired beast. It moved fast enough and climbed hills like a dream, but it was meant for pot holes and curbs and flexibility in the city. The new bike was going to be her speed demon. Only it was just…too fast. Aggresive. Maybe it would work for the kind of reckless and single Arizona, but not the one now in a genuine long term relationship.

She went over to the steel framed designer bikes. “How about I pick up one of these instead?”

“That’s half the price.”

“Yeah but you can put a lot of the components from that on it. It’ll make it a little overblown maybe but I won’t feel like I’m riding my midlife crisis down a hill.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Why are you going for a very expensive luxury sedan when a sports car is sitting right here?”

Because she wanted something she could ride leisurely beside Callie or Allegra. Something she could fit a trailer on to take the boys with her. She wanted to share bike riding with Callie and her kids. She wanted to share time with them.

“I just want something fun.”

He shrugged and they went over the plan for the new bike before she picked out some new wheels for her current bike and bought some new tubes. They chatted a bit after that—catching up on everything she’d missed in the last few months while he fitted the new wheels on her bike.

“You planning on doing any rides with us anytime soon? I know everyone misses you.”

“I’d love to. It’s just finding time.”

He grinned.

“What,” she asked.

“You got a girlfriend.”

She frowned.

“The sudden change in bikes. The dreamy look in your eyes. The **complete** absence of you at rides for months before your crash.”

She narrowed her eyes but said nothing.

He shrugged, “It’s fine. Sometimes you find someone on a ride and sometimes you don’t, and then you take off from cycling for the girl.”

“I still love cycling.”

“Just not as much as her, right?” Before she could get out a sufficient retort Ted wrapped her in another hug. “I’m happy for you Robbins. You look better than I’ve ever known you.”

She returned the hug. Squeezing him tight and getting a noseful of sweat and bicycle grease for her trouble. But still… “I am,” she said. 

Happy.

Ted spent a little time trying to suss out more about Callie but when Arizona made it very clear he wasn’t getting anything else he gave it up and took her bike off the stand with a flourish. 

They settled on when she would come by and pick up the bike he was building. Then he made her pay for it up front—the carbon fibre number still evidently a little of a sore spot for him.

She got out of the shop a few grand poorer than she’d entered and mounted up, slipping into traffic with ease and making the ride back to the hospital in record time.

Amelia was sitting outside enjoying the warm spring sun, her face tilted up to catch every ray and a pair of big sunglasses shading her eyes.

“I miss California,” she said spying Arizona coming up the path. She’d rarely mentioned the home she’d fled. Instead moving forward. Pushing past whatever had led to her relapse in the first place.

Arizona took a seat next to her and looked up into the sun, her own eyes protected by a pair of aviator glasses. “I know what you mean.”

“You never lived there.”

“I was referring to the sun. I’ve missed it.”

“Been spending your days indoors.”

She glanced at her without actually shifting her position, “That’s not it. Allegra seems really interested in bike riding. I wanted to take her to the park but every time I have time off it’s dark or gross.”

They both angled their heads back up to soak in more rays. It was pleasant.

“How **are** things with you and Torres?”

Arizona smiled. With everything going on in her life Callie was the one thing she was sure of. The plane crash had given her a second chance—Callie had given her a second chance and she wasn’t going to blow it because of kids or work or anything else. She was going to keep going as long as Callie would have her.

Amelia must have noticed the smile because she smirked, “That good. Huh?”

Better than good.

Her affirmation was cut short by the long shadow of a man in a suit. He was tall with red hair and a pinched expression on his face.

“Dr. Robbins,” he asked. The good feeling that had been wrapped around her like a blanket all day started to fray. She leaned forward on the bench resting her elbow on her knee and waiting for him to speak. “I’m an attorney representing Bayview Aeronautics. Do you mind if we talk?”

 

####

“Go to hell.” He was mad.

“Mark!” Robbins was shocked.

“No. My fiancé is in a coma and this bastard wants to buy me off.” Really mad.

“He wants to settle.” Derek had apparently elected himself peacekeeper.

“We should just sit down and take a moment and talk about this.” Meredith was the one doing the actual calming.

“There’s nothing to talk about. That guy and his whole company can go to hell and take anyone to blame with them.” Really, really mad.

Robbins curled her hand around his bicep. “Hey,” she said softly, “let’s pause for a second here.”

Lexie agreed. She’d gone to the conference room for coffee and been caught in a nook when the four of them bursted in shouting. They still hadn’t noticed her and she was debating whether to reveal herself or just wait for them to leave again.

Meredith was hugging herself to no doubt fight the nausea over whatever they were arguing about. “So he’s talked to all of us?”

Robbins shook her head, “He hasn’t got to Callie yet. I called and let her know.”

“So we sit down,” Derek said calmly. “We have to all agree so we sit down and all agree on what to do.”

Sloan tugged his hand through his hair. He was looking kind of pasty and sickly and his hair was startlingly darker than usual when compared to his pallor, “Really Derek. We just all agree? How exactly is Addison supposed to do that in a coma? Or Hahn. Pretty hard for her to make a statement what with being dead.”

“I’ll talk to Hahn’s family,” Arizona said stiffly.

“You’re her proxy Mark. You tell me.” Derek latched onto Mark’s other statement and was cold towards the guy. Frigid. Lexie remembered hearing all about how they’d been best friends and now Derek basically hated the guy. It was just her first time really seeing it in action.

Meredith rolled her eyes. “Right. Because you two fighting over Addison is really going to help.”

“We’re not—“ They both shouted at the same time. Then stopped and glared some more at one another.

“Seriously. This isn’t helping. And it isn’t that big a deal. We get an attorney and we sit down and we discuss this.”

“What kind of lawyer would we even need,” Robbins asked. Her hand was still wrapped around Sloan’s arm and Lexie kind of suspected it was the only reason he hadn’t left the room in a huff or punched something.

“I know a guy,” Sloan said distractedly—his eyes still on Derek, “I’ll get him to recommend someone.”

Derek raised an eyebrow in surprise over Sloan’s sudden shift, but wisely said nothing.

“Okay,” Meredith said, her eyes studying the other four, “So we’re going to hold off doing anything before we all get together?”

Robbins agreed. Then Derek. Finally Sloan.

“Good.”

They all filed out except for Meredith. She paused at the door then shut it and turned around. 

“Were you just going to hide in the corner all day or until we left.”

Busted. Lexie winced and stepped out from her little cubby hold. “I wasn’t technically hiding.”

“But you weren’t exactly out and about either.”

“You guys were all yelling and heated and it just didn’t seem like there was an easy way to—you know—say something.”

Meredith didn’t buy it. One side of her mouth curved upwards. “You were being nosy.”

She clutched her coffee to her chest and stepped closer, dropping her voice, “Well just a little bit. Can you blame me? Sloan’s ready to punch someone and Derek’s acting more frigid than your mother. What the hell’s going on?”

“It was the crash. Some guy from the plane company is asking us to settle.”

Oh. That was a little different. Like the shadow on Meredith’s face at the mention of it. She never talked about the crash or the nearly thirty hours they were on the ground and Lexie didn’t ask. The way she figured it it was sort of like some of the especially bad moments of her drug habit. Better to move on than dwell on the bad.

“Are you…okay?”

She hoped Meredith didn’t cry. Meredith was always pretty big on the tears. The exact opposite of Lexie. Maybe it was something to do with having happily married and loving parents.

And she didn’t cry. Her mouth was a firm grimace and her eyes were cloudy but she wasn’t about to sob. “I’m okay.”

“If there’s anything—“

“I’ll be fine Lexie.” She smiled and it wouldn’t have bothered Lexie, but Meredith had such a telling one. “Really.”

Lexie didn’t believe it for a second.

 

####

Arizona stepped out of Addison’s room to give Mark a few minutes to pack up. After the flare up in the conference room she was done letting him mope. She was going to drag him home by one of those perfect ears of his and force him to eat real food and sleep in a real bed and spend a whole real day somewhere besides the hospital. Maybe at Callie’s. He and Abby could play with the kids and she and Callie could talk. About general stuff. And this settlement too.

She whipped her phone out and dialed her girlfriend. Callie answered after two rings and Arizona got straight to the heart of it. “He show up yet?”

“He was so clean cut and yet so slimy.”

“Yeah Mark wasn’t crazy about him either.”

“What’s everyone thinking there?”

“Derek and Meredith want to consider. Mark’s pretty gung ho about suing though.”

Callie sighed and she heard the clump of her walker as she moved over what sounded like the living room carpet. “You know I hadn’t even thought about that?”

“I don’t think anyone had. Personally I was just happy you were alive. That we both were.”

“Me too,” she said softly. “So do **you** want to settle? Or are you siding with Mark here?”

Arizona had no idea what she wanted to do. At least about that. She had no desire to relive the crash. Watching Erica die and feeling Callie slip away was one of the worst few moments of her life. She didn’t want to spend years talking about it with lawyers and sitting in courtrooms. But just taking a lump sum of money because she happened to survive a plane crash seemed equally as awful. 

“I don’t want this to happen to someone else.”

“Right,” Callie said.

“But I don’t know if I could stand a deposition.” Callie had gotten so pale. The blood straight from her lungs had been nearly fluorescent against her usually dark skin and her hair had been tangled and wet from the rain. The feel of her skin beneath her fingers. All clammy. Like a dead body.

She shuddered.

“I know what you mean,” Callie muttered, clearly unaware of Arizona’s thoughts. “I’m just finally starting to get away from it and now this guy wants me thinking about it all over again? Couldn’t they have just sent us a letter in the mail?”

“Maybe they’re worried. They want to be hands on to make sure we don’t sue.”

“Or this guy just wants a few more billable hours from the big aeronautics company.”

“Why is it just the plane manufacturer anyways? I’d figured the charter company, maybe even the hospital would be involved.”

Callie groaned loudly and not unlike a teenager, “I don’t want to think about this. I just want to be healed up and cutting hearts open and having dinner with my girlfriend.”

“At your place right? Because your girlfriend has the horniest roommate on the planet and is pretty sure half the apartment has been defiled by her ass.”

There was dead air.

Callie’s voice was strangely flat. “All that did was remind me that she’d probably slept with you more times than I had.”

Arizona closed her eyes. Of course. Stupid. Amelia was her friend but she’d been her sort of girlfriend first. Something Callie had never really questioned. Yet this was new. The self-recrimination gave way to interest. Was Callie…jealous?

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay. Just means I’ve got a lot I’ve got to do to you when I see you next.”

Yes she was. Charmingly jealous. She laughed, “That sounds really pleasant.”

“It is. I’m thinking of ordering a few jars of body paints. Maybe fishing out those handcuffs from Halloween a few years ago.”

“Straight to the toys huh?”

“Well, I just want to be prepared. The first week at least will just be straight ravaging with my tongue and hands. Mainly my tongue though.”

Arizona involuntarily moaned. Then glanced around to make sure no one was really paying attention. They weren’t. In fact she was practically alone. She lowered her voice. “Why?” She had to know.

“Because I love the way you taste.” Oh sweet heaven. She squeezed her thighs together and her head thumped against the wall behind her. “And the way you move against my mouth when you come.” 

Arizona’s hand slapped loudly against the wall. She smiled politely at a curious nurse and collapsed, letting the wall support her and ducking her head so her hair hid her face.

Callie laughed, almost nervously. Which was impossible because two seconds of her dirty talk had Arizona more turned on than she’d been in…well it was almost better than touching Callie the night before. “And look at me being all dirty on the phone all of a sudden—“

“Don’t,” she interrupted. “No getting embarrassed.” She sucked in a shuddering breath. “I liked it.” 

“You know what I’d really like?” Callie’s voice was audible sex. Low and sultry and oh sweet heaven it was everything Arizona dreamed of at night.

She desperately wanted to know. Maybe not in a hallway with depressed Mark a door away and coworkers and employees everywhere but— “What,” she squeaked out.

“I’d really like to—Daddy!”

Everything in her shriveled and died. Everything. “Not conducive,” she croaked.

“I know. Sorry.” 

There was some loud talking about what sounded like a turtle, but that was muffled, likely by Callie holding the phone to her boob. Which…not unpleasant. Arizona could use her imagination. She’d even felt that boob the night before. She could just go straight from imagination to memory. It was nice.

Nicer still was blending the two. Putting that perfect body into a burgundy bikini and slowly massaging sunscreen into those curves. Just her and Callie. Somewhere away from lawyers and hospitals and plane crashes. Maybe a beach. Definitely not a mountain.

“Sorry. Daddy had to ask a question and I’m pretty sure that ruined whatever we were about to do.”

“Actually it just gave me an idea.”

“Disturbing.”

She laughed, “No. Nothing gross. Just made me think about a vacation. The two of us. Some sangria. Possibly a few skimpy bikinis.”

“And a babysitter for when we want to be totally alone?”

“Mm hm. So we can take proper advantage of the private beach.”

“There’s a private beach?”

“Yup. We’ll swim in the ocean in the morning. I’ll see if I can remember any of that summer I tried to surf. And in the afternoons we’ll tuck them in for naps and have the whole expanse to ourselves.”

“With nudity.”

“And blankets.”

“For the sand.”

“Exactly.”

“Arizona?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re in charge of planning all of the vacations now.”

Yup. As long as Callie would let her.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You may have noticed that there are now officially twenty chapters! That’s because everything up until the end has been plotted and chunks have been been written! So Causal Fallacy will wrap up soon and a sequel, and likely the final installation in this universe will begin sometime in March. In the meanwhile, I’ll also be finishing Hamilton Gregg (gasp!) and devoting more time to Just Two Weeks and the totally awesome Buffy fic I started. I’m stoked. I’d say you should be too, but that would be rude.

There was an Amelia in her kitchen. Just standing there carefully plating expensive looking take out food and setting a chilled bottle of some kind of weird artisan water on the table.

There were candles too. In addition to the girlfriend. And soft music playing. And no sister. And no Cristina.

Lexie dropped her bag loudly on the counter and Amelia looked up. She smiled, the candlelight make her whole face glow. “Hey, you’re back.”

Lexie narrowed her eyes, “I am. What…”

“I had it on good authority that both of your roommates wouldn’t be here tonight and even though Arizona’s probably not going to be home until late she’s still kind of pissed about the counter sex the other day so—“

“So you came here.”

“I came here.” She motioned down at the food. “And I brought Italian!”

She brought half a restaurant judging by the containers. Lexie crept over and looked in one that had the definite appearance of a pastry box. “Cannoli?”

“I know you’ve got kind of a sweet tooth.”

“I do…” Being the daughter of an alcoholic and kind of one herself Lexie had a tendency not to trust spurious moments of thoughtfulness. “What did you do?”

Amelia frowned, “I mean, I ate most of the garlic bread, but that’s not—“

“No, what did you do that prompted this?”

“Had a thought?”

“Amelia, I’m serious. Did you say something to Meredith?”

“About what?”

“I don’t know! But you show up here doing nice things like you’re buying an apology and I’d just like to know what for.”

Amelia let the plated food drop rather unceremoniously to the table, “So what, bringing you dinner and being nice has to have an ulterior motive? I can’t just have a good day at work and want to celebrate with the only person I care about in this town who’ll talk to me? Really?”

“That’s not—“

“I was being nice, Lexie. People can be spontaneously nice.”

“No. People are nice because they want something.”

Amelia stepped back. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

What? Did she want her to spell it out? Explain how people were nice because they needed something from Lexie? They needed her big fat brain or they needed her connection to the Greys and Webbers. Before all this it was because they wanted to sleep with her or use her or— “You know what it means,” she begged. Pleading with Amelia not to keep pushing this and to just apologize or stop or spit out why she’d really come.

But she didn’t. The same hands that could dissect a blood vessel a millimeter wide clutched the top of the chair. Her knuckles were white, the skin pulled taunt against the musculature. “Really,” she breathed. Lexie looked up at her face. She was stricken there on the other side of the table. “That’s what you think. That I’m just…what? Using you?”

“Aren’t you,” she shot back. She used her for sex and for a shoulder to cry on and for that inexplicable in she’d gained with Derek.

“No. No, I thought I was in a relationship with you where there was give and take. That I could show up unannounced with dinner and you’d smile instead of—whatever the hell you’re doing right now.” She stepped back away from the meal and grabbed her bag, slinging it over her shoulder almost violently.

“Amelia—“

She spun, “What?” 

Lexie knew, ostensibly, that people **could** be nice to one another unprompted. She’d done that herself even. She just wasn’t always accustomed to people, outside of maybe Meredith, being nice to **her**. And after hearing about the lawsuit, seeing all those relatively stable and healthy doctors spun into a frenzy…

Lexie was on edge. Like any moment this safe little life she’d built would come apart.

The well-deserved anger Amelia had been carrying moments before eked out of her. She took a step towards Lexie, her face now etched with concern.

Involuntarily Lexie took a step back.

That was all Amelia needed. She gently took her bag off her shoulder and took another step. “Lexie,” she said her name so carefully. Like Lexie was some…some animal that might run at a moment’s notice. “Lexie what happened?”

The sane part of Lexie knew she was being irrational. She knew the fear bubbling up in her was a lifetime of issues unravelling because of this lawsuit. This stupid lawsuit that wasn’t even related to her! Her sister would take the settlement or she wouldn’t. The other doctors would hate one another or they wouldn’t. Addison would die or she wouldn’t. Derek would operate again or he wouldn’t. And Amelia would stay or she’d go.

It was out of Lexie’s hands. Beyond her control. She **knew** that and she knew how a healthy person reacted to potential changes like that. They didn’t let them all build up in their head until they all popped out over Italian take out.

And Amelia got that.

“You’re freaking out,” she said softly. “You want to talk about why?”

Lexie shook her head, “I’m a Grey. Freak outs are a time honored tradition. Like destroying body parts with substance abuse.”

Amelia crept closer. “Yeah, but you’re almost sort of a Webber too now right? Because of Meredith? And I’m pretty sure she’d be opposed to you embracing this tradition.”

“She’s got enough to worry about right now.”

She stepped back. Not actually to run away. Just to put a little more distance between her and Amelia—who was looking at her so empathetically. As though she understood precisely what was going through Lexie’s head.

“I can’t talk about it.” She was having difficultly putting it all into words in her head, let alone explaining it to Amelia.

“Okay,” she held her hands up, “So we won’t talk about it. But we could eat? Or I could do this thing I really want to do right now?”

“What,” she asked quietly—like a child.

“Hug you.”

Lexie didn’t move an inch.

 

####

“You brought us to your girlfriend’s?”

“We need food and they have food.”

“So does the grocery store. It also doesn’t have Torres’s dad.”

Arizona flashed Mark a grin that could almost me classified as roguish, “Scared?”

Mark peered through the window up at the house, “You didn’t have all that directed at you the day he showed up. I did.”

“No, I just had to deal with him after Callie came out.”

“Yeah, but he knew you by then. You’d softened him up!”

“Mark,” she looked at him seriously, which he wasn’t crazy about. He liked fun Arizona making cracks and teasing him. Serious Arizona was all about pity and comfort which meant he **needed** pity and comfort.

“Fine,” he said. Maybe if he agreed she’d stop with the look. “We’ll go in and I’ll play nice,” he jabbed his finger towards the house, “as long as he does.”

“The whole thinly veiled bigotry thing aside Carlos is a wonderful man.” She put Mark’s car in park and stamped down on the parking brake. 

Mark twisted in his seat to undo Abigail’s child seat and pull the little sleepy bundle of daughter out. “You don’t think it’s weird that you’re getting along with a guy who hates you because you like women?”

“I’ve been out in some fashion since I was in high school. Dealing with people and their homophobia isn’t new.” She said it breezily. Like people hating her because she was a lesbian didn’t bother her. Maybe it was like how people thought Mark was slutty so they disliked him. Only it still actually bothered him when people didn’t like him.

Arizona patted Abigail fondly on the head. “Besides. We’re bringing a baby. Who doesn’t love babies?”

“Scary Papa Torreses,” Mark muttered under his breath.

Torres’s little girl was waiting for them at the side door, her tiny face squished up against the glass to see who was coming. She frowned at the sight of Mark and Abigail, but as soon as she saw Robbins her face brightened up like she was seeing Santa himself and she yanked the door open and came running down the steps towards them shouting Arizona’s name.

Arizona smiled too. Not what Mark had figured out was her public smile that she wore 95% of the time at the hospital. She knelt down and scooped the girl up into her arms with a real genuine smile.

“Hey,” she said, “shouldn’t you be inside helping with dinner?”

“Abuelito is making empanadas and said we’d get fried if we helped,” she said seriously.

Robbins laughed. Actually genuinely laughed. “Sounds good to me. A little Allegra wrapped up in a fried pastry?” She squeezed the girl teasingly and Allegra giggled before readjusting herself quite naturally on Arizona’s hip to turn and study Mark.

He held Abigail out so she could see her. “You remember my daughter Abigail right? You and your brothers came to her party?”

Allegra frowned. Either Torres and Hunt’s genetic material had failed to create a genius or four year olds didn’t have the most outstanding memories in the world. Probably the latter. Mark couldn’t even **remember** being four.

“We had pink cake,” Arizona whispered to the girl.

That did it. The kid’s face lit up. “You’re Addison’s boyfriend,” she said astutely.

“Fiancé,” he corrected her. 

“Addison’s sick right now,” Arizona said, “So Mark and Abigail are going to have dinner with us tonight. Does that sound like fun?”

The kid nodded and sort of went floppy in Arizona’s arms and rested her head on her shoulder. But her eyes, tiny, wide and surprisingly baleful for a little kid’s, stayed on Mark.

So apparently she took after her grandpa. Who was in the kitchen with an apron wrapped around his waist and his hands covered in dough and meat. Torres was standing at the fridge on a pair of crutches and wearing a pair of shorts that did **very** nice things for the leg not wrapped up in a brace. Her hair was all messy, the opposite of the usually utterly refined and mildly frigid cardio attending he knew, and there was a piece of cheese hanging out of her mouth.

Mark had never really gotten Robbins’ thing for her beyond the whole “smoking hot and smart” thing. She was always a little too put together. Too fabricated. This chick in her wind shorts and sweatshirt with messy hair and a mouthful of cheese seemed much more relatable, and even sexier because of it.

He grinned appreciatively. Torres turned red.

So did her father. He waved a pair of tongs glistening with hot oil at him. Mark involuntarily wrapped his hand around his daughter’s head protectively. 

“What’s **he** doing here?”

Arizona grinned, “He’s here for dinner.”

“After what he did to my daughter,” he said in outrage.

Torres sighed, “Daddy, he didn’t do anything to me.”

The old man opened his mouth to illuminate exactly what transgressions Mark had apparently committed, but Torres thankfully spoke faster than her pops.

“That was all a misunderstanding. Mark Sloan’s actually engaged. To Addison?”

Carlos must have known who Addison was because he looked almost apologetic a moment. But then he scowled, “Then why did he run? An innocent man doesn’t run.”

“Have you met you,” he blurted out. Arizona sighed and Torres rolled her eyes. “I mean. Sir. You can kind of be—look you’ve met yourself.” He shrugged.

Carlos stared.

Torres nervously finished her cheese, her eyes darting from one man to the other.

Abigail squirmed in Mark’s arms. Maybe that was what did it. Carlos looked down at the precious bundle Mark was planning on never letting go of as long as he lived and smiled. 

 

####

After determining that Mark and Carlos weren’t going to come to blows and getting Allegra settled with her brothers in the boys’ room she snuck into the downstairs bedroom to find Callie leaning forward and adjusting herself in her bra. She flipped back up. 

“You said you were coming for dinner. Not you and Mark Sloan.”

Arizona flopped on the bed, from where she had an excellent vantage point of a lot of wonderful toplessness. And the changes that a month of bed rest after falling from the sky had brought. Callie’s meds made her queasy and she wasn’t holding food down as well as she should have. She was getting skinny in that flabby starving way that instilled an urge in Arizona to feed her lots of kale and soy and get her into physical therapy immediately.

“Mark needed a break from his current routine of hospital and apartment.”

“I was braless.”

“I know,” she said mischievously, “I’m a little sad you’re not now.”

Callie picked her shirt up and pulled it on, “Yeah well I’ve nursed three kids. Waving these things around unfettered is probably a public hazard. Could have taken an eye out.”

Waving them around in front of **Mark Sloan**. Arizona wouldn’t get jealous because she’d smoke Mark in a sexy off any time and any place and technically he was kind of a stranger and she’d probably be weird about going braless in front of a stranger too.

But there was something about how Callie worded it. Like they were **just** boobs and not even good ones.

“Those breasts are perfect, and Mark would be so lucky as to get one in the eye.”

Callie sighed. “You’re trying to make me feel better.”

She snatched a pillow and rested her chin on it, “You know why I first noticed you?”

“Why?”

“You and I were in our first surgery together and we came out and you yanked off your gown so you could call me an ass unencumbered.”

“I remember. You were being a Type-A know it all in the OR and I wanted to kill you. Adorable in retrospect.”

“And you were pregnant with Allegra and filling out your scrubs perfectly.”

“You first noticed me because of my boobs?”

“And your skill. You’re an extraordinary surgeon.”

Callie raised an eyebrow, “But mainly because of my boobs.”

“And being a connoisseur of boobs I took note over all these years and I can safely say, that Calliope Torres you have the very best breasts in all of Seattle.”

“See I’d have to disagree,” she said with a smile. She gently pushed Arizona until she rolled over onto her back and sat next to her head “I may not be quite the connoisseur such as yourself, but being a chest doctor I do have **some** experience.” She laid her palm flat between Arizona’s breasts, “And for my money these win out every time.”

She ran her fingers lightly over Callie’s arm. From the wrist between her breast up to her elbow. “We’re going to have to agree to disagree aren’t we?”

“Probably.” Her thumb grazed over the inner curve of her right breast and she stared at Arizona’s chest thoughtfully.

“What are you thinking about?”

“Six months ago I was always irrationally jealous when people talked to you and it wasn’t me.”

How had Arizona missed that?

“And I thought you were attractive but I didn’t think you were **attractive** you know?”

She knew. “You didn’t want to kiss me senseless.”

“I just wanted to…be near you. And now—I’m actually dating you and suddenly I’m seeing boobs—and appreciating them! Like my ortho surgeon? She’s hot!”

Hot and also pretty great in bed. Not Callie great though. Callie was it as far as Arizona was concerned. She was terrified of sleeping with someone else—sure it would just make her miss Callie.

“She’s all right.” 

“It’s like there’s this whole other world open to me now because of you.”

She frowned. So what? She was Callie’s…gateway drug.

“Not that I plan on exploring it. I’m kind of only being an Arizonaian.” A what? “I mean,” Callie blushed, “Like I’m not straight and I’m not a lesbian and maybe I’m bisexual but it doesn’t matter because the only one I want to be with is—“

“You’re adorable when you babble.” She reached over and grabbed one of Callie’s crutches, waving it over her head and backing them away from the precipice of big important sexuality conversations. “You moved onto crutches?”

“The walker is going to be burned.”

“It’s not too soon?”

“It was like I was my grandmother. Daddy bought tennis balls Arizona. For the feet.”

Arizona winced. 

“Yeah. Besides I’m feeling more mobile now. I can almost keep up with the twins.”

It would be months before she could actually keep up with them, and that was if everything in her last surgery had gone right. And even if it had she wouldn’t be chasing and lifting and carrying like she had before. 

There was a shadow on Callie’s face. She loved her kids. Not being able to connect with them, and play with them, would have to be brutal.

“When do you start PT?”

“Not soon enough. It feels like the kids are going to be teenagers before I’m allowed to carry them again.”

Arizona dropped the crutch onto the bed next to her and caught her hand to squeeze it supportingly. “It’ll get better.”

Callie’s face lit up, “Yeah. It will.” She ran her hand through Arizona’s hair and nodded to the door. “How’s Mark doing?”

Arizona’s fingers grazed Callie’s side. “Sad.”

“Any word on Addison?”

She continued to caress Callie’s waist. “Nothing. I keep going by to check on her and she just sits there.”

“It’s a coma.”

“Yeah, but…”

Callie’s thumb ran over Arizona’s cheek, “But it’s different with friends?”

Little kids were fine. Arizona didn’t know a lot of little kids outside of the hospital. So it was easier to erect all those barriers they were taught to erect. To see them as patients and not people. But adults? With an adult all she could do was think of the life they had lived. Their spouses and parents and the family they left behind. Kids she was operating to save their future. An adult it was about saving their everything.

And Addison was worse. Because she **knew** Addison. She liked her. She was godmother to her child and had found the best friend she might have ever known, apart from her brother and Nick, in her fiancé. They weren’t quite family, but they were more than simple coworkers.

And Addison was dying, being tugged down by some undefinable thing. Some people…some people just didn’t wake up.

Arizona pressed her face against Callie’s thigh with a groan of frustration. Why couldn’t the woman just open her stupid eyes so Mark would stop being a shadow and Arizona could be selfish and in love?

“You like to act like this big tough peds surgeon,” Callie mused, “but really you’re kind of mushy.”

She glanced up at Callie and scowled. 

“But I like the mushy. Because it’s under all that big tough peds surgeon,” she said fondly. “Gives you layers.”

“I swear to god if you compare me to an onion or a cake…”

“Nope,” she said brightly. She pulled on Arizona’s shoulder until Arizona was forced to lay her head in Callie’s lap. “Was just thinking about your layers and how I adore them.”

“No onions?”

“None.” She bent down and Arizona sat up for a light kiss. “Maybe some cake though.”

“Mm,” Arizona stole another kiss, “I guess I can be okay with being compared to cake.”

“It’s a twenty layer cake with chocolate ganache if it helps.”

“Well, chocolate ganache.” Arizona laced her fingers with Callie’s. “Who can complain about being part chocolate ganache?”

Callie laughed lightly.

In the epic tome that had become their relationship that light laugh wasn’t rare or monumental. Callie had laughed hundreds of times before. She’d smiled at Arizona and it had always made her satisfied—delighted that **she** was the one bringing Callie some measure of joy. And Callie had seemed to get something out of what they’d been doing too. She’d found sexual satisfaction and a shoulder to cry on. It was a relationship of unspoken bargains and Arizona had been fine with that.

Yet something about that laugh. Something, really, about that moment. Arizona was looking up at a woman who could put aside her own thoughts just to make Arizona feel better. It wasn’t that Callie was cheering Arizona up—she was—it was that she wanted to.

Callie frowned, “What are you thinking about?”

“You really do love me don’t you?”

 

####

Callie would never dare blame the failure of her marriage on Arizona Robbins. It was a burden she had no right to lay on the woman. A burden she had no right to lay on anyone but Owen and herself.

But truth be told, Arizona Robbins **was** why she left her husband. Arizona just…clicked. She fit into all the holes in Callie’s life and made things…right. She was her confidante. Her soul mate, if she wanted to get overly romantic and squishy like a resident. They’d been only sporadic lovers but Arizona stirred a unique fire in Callie that no man—no other lover could match.

It was easy with Arizona even when it was hard.

Like when Arizona looked up at her in awe and asked if Callie really loved her. Didn’t she know? Didn’t she understand that Callie never stopped? Callie fell in love with her somewhere between that aborted kiss in her apartment and that searing one in the bathroom and she’d never ever considered being out of love with her.

Even when Arizona dumped her. Even when she slept with Amelia. Even in the middle of the forest when the cold was creeping in and the pain seemed like it would never cease. Calliope Torres loved Arizona Robbins.

“Yes,” she said seriously, “I really do love you.”

Arizona searched her face for a sign that it was a lie and Callie wondered how often others had fabricated their affection for Arizona. She sat up on her knees and continued to study Callie.

“I love what you make me,” she said. “And I love what do you to me.” She slipped her hand behind Arizona’s neck and pulled her closer, “And I just love you you idiot.”

A kiss seemed natural but a hug was necessary, so she wrapped her arms around Arizona and pressed her lips to her neck and squeezed her tight. Maybe Arizona would get it. Callie finally understood Arizona and maybe…maybe Arizona might understand her too.

Arizona didn’t apologize for being kind of stupid. She didn’t freak out. That wasn’t Arizona. She quietly accepted that maybe she’d misjudged things and they held each other in silence.

A quiet conversation in the kitchen and the sizzling sound of flaky dough in oil filtered through the closed door. The feet of three small children thumping down the stairs almost stirred them.

Almost.

But they were too busy getting caught up in just holding one another.

Finally Callie pulled away. Arizona’s face was still with that frustratingly mysterious look in her eyes. Callie would probably never know exactly what she was thinking but she knew enough to know it was a mask. A way for Arizona to guard herself. So she smiled nervously.

“Sorry,” she said, “I just made that kind of intense. I do that sometimes. Take something dumb and make it dumber—“

Arizona’s lips on hers ended the apology. Then she leaned back and smiled mischievously. Like she’d done in those early days when she was still Dr. Robbins instead of Arizona. All dimples and teeth. “We should go check up on Carlos and Mark.”

“Yeah…”

Had that smile always only been for her? 

How had she missed that all those years?

How long, really, had Arizona felt something for her—some attraction.

She raised her eyebrow when she realized Callie hadn’t moved. “You coming?”

Had it really only been five months since they started this dance? Or had Arizona taken the floor much much earlier?

 

####

Meredith looked around, and seeing they were alone, picked a **monstrous** wedgie.

“I’m so glad we’re friends,” Cristina said flatly.

Meredith was still digging her underwear out of her crack or something. “I think there’s a leaf or a bug in my underwear.”

Cristina and Meredith were half way through forty-eight hour shift and Meredith had just returned from a ten minute dinner break that had lasted well over an hour because she’d snuck off to chase after McDreary. The hospital was mercifully quiet. The Pit was a wasteland. 

And Meredith was hunting for gold.

“It’s that stupid trailer. You can’t go five steps without running into wildlife.”

“I take it you and Derek are back together.”

They’d broken up and gotten back together so many times Cristina was about to ask Mer to just wear a sign declaring their current status.

“We’re working on it,” she grunted in frustration, “But I’m gonna leave his ass if he keeps living in the stupid. Freaking. Woods.” She must have accomplished something because she groaned loudly in relief. 

“Be sure to wash your hands before you treat a patient.”

“He keeps talking about this dream house he’s building next to the trailer, but all I see are woods. And bugs. And I think I got ringworm out there.”

Cristina wanted to commiserate, but she’d taken this particular long shift so her schedule would be similar to Owen’s and they could sneak away for alone time without kids or parents. “At least your boyfriend doesn’t live with his **mother**.”

Meredith winced then her face fell. “We’re dating man children Cristina. Toddlers.”

“Who camp out in the woods or sleep ten feet from the woman who bore them.”

“Does that mean we’re toddlers too?”

“No. We’re pedophiles Mer. Sad, sad pedophiles.”

They wandered away from the Pit, their path aimlessly taking them down the stairs to the tunnels where beds were abandoned along the hallway’s walls and equipment that probably needed to be retired cluttered up dusty storerooms. She and Izzie and George used to eat lunch in the tunnels. It felt…safe.

Meredith slumped into a creaky old wheelchair. “If he doesn’t move back into Addison’s abandoned townhouse maybe he could move in with Amelia.”

“And sleep on Robbins’ couch,” she asked incredulously.

“Right. She hasn’t moved in with Callie yet?”

Cristina moaned, “I don’t care or want to care.”

“It’s not like Amelia even **sleeps** there. She’s practically living with us.”

“We should make her pay rent.”

“Should I be worried that Lexie’s using her instead of cocaine?”

Cristina spread herself out over one of the beds and propped her feet up on the wall. “Not as long as she doesn’t make Lexie’s heart explode.”

“Remember that attorney that showed up this morning?”

“The one that wants to reward you for surviving in the woods for a day?”

“He went and talked to everybody. Even talked to Mark. I’m fine with whatever. But Derek is acting all weird over it.”

“Well, his ex-wife is in a coma and his ex-best friend is making all her decisions for her.”

“It just has me wondering.” Her hands fell on the wheels of the chair and she idly pushed herself backwards and forwards. “You know, about fellowships. If I stay here I’m probably going to have to watch that particular pissing match for years. And I don’t think I really want to watch my boyfriend fight some other guy over another woman.”

But that had to be better than staying with a guy devoted to three kids and demanding at least some level of devotion from his significant other and still wrapped up with his ex-wife. Right?

“I don’t know what to tell you Meredith.”

“You made any decisions about **your** fellowships yet?”

“I have determined that they all pay better than Seattle Grace.”

“What if my mom actually paid you what you were worth? Would you stay?”

That was the million dollar question wasn’t it? And one Cristina was no closer to answering.

Their pagers both sounded noisily in their coat pockets and Mer hopped up before offering a hand to pull Cristina up as well. 

“I’d consider staying if I were you.”

“Says the woman planning to flee.”

“You and Owen work Cristina. A lot better than him and Callie. And you seem almost—“

“Happy?”

“With him? Yeah.”

 

####

Owen needed to buy a house. Callie’s trust had paid for their first house. She’d waved her hand dismissively at the idea of paying a mortgage and bought it outright. They’d fought over that point. A lot. Owen **hated** that the house was “theirs” but paid for by her. He’d always hated it. He’d been afraid to paint walls or fix that creaky step or even clean out the dryer vent because in the end, technically, it wasn’t his.

The only good that had come from it was he’d saved up a lot of money. Money that his former attorney had insisted go into a house.

“If she’s the primary caregiver she’s going to come after you for child support,” he’d said. “And alimony.” Owen had disagreed on the latter. Callie didn’t need the alimony with her own salary and Owen had had every intention of paying child support.

“You need fewer liquid assets. Buying a house will help, and it will show the judge you’re stable and able to take care of your kids.”

“Why would they judge think otherwise?”

“Because you assaulted your wife. She was stupid and didn’t press charges, but we can use that to our advantage.”

Owen fired that lawyer and hired a new one. One that wasn’t out to ruin Callie. One that aided in an amicable split and sorted out the money stuff and let Callie and Owen stay friends after it all.

But that first guy, the sleaze the head of the ER had suggested had been right about one thing, Owen needed to buy a house. Not for the courts as much as for Cristina. She was getting uncomfortable staying over and having his mother a room away, and Owen wasn’t about to stay at her place which usually resembled a frat house more than the home of two surgeons and a librarian.

He could get a house. Then he could get Cristina alone and maybe she’d tell him what had her so quiet and distant. Then he could tell his children he’d found someone to love. Then he could…then he could ask Cristina to move in.

“You’re moving too fast,” his therapist would say. “You’ve just ended your marriage. You’re still very fragile emotionally.”

Owen hadn’t had a freak out in months though. He’d weathered Callie’s crash safely. So he couldn’t sleep at nights and was still wrestling with an excess of energy and anger. So what! He was a good person again. And Cristina had facilitated that change and deserved a house and a part of Owen that wasn’t related to his ex-wife.

She found him at reception in the Pit after sending a car crash victim up to be prepped for surgery. 

“Hey,” she said cheerfully, “I’m about to do something awesome to this guy’s heart. Want to come watch?”

He’d tucked the house ads he’d been staring at under a file. As much as he wanted to tell her about his hunt for a home he also didn’t want to just spring it on her at work. “I’d love to but…kind of in charge down here.”

She tilted her head, “You okay?”

“I’m good.”

She stared for a moment like she was considering something incredibly important. Stepped closer and lowered her voice. “Thinking about this lawsuit?”

“What lawsuit?”

“The one your ex-wife is involved in? With the plane crash?”

“I…I didn’t know about it.”

“Oh,” she tried to stay cheerful, which was always odd, “Well, I think it just came up today.”

“Yeah.”

Still, wouldn’t Callie have mentioned something? Or Arizona when he saw her earlier?

“Owen?” Cristina was still standing there in her bright yellow trauma gown, “You sure you’re okay?” Her voice was delicate. Tender. Tender? He made it sound like it was rare for her to be empathetic! But he knew her. He got Cristina. The rest of them thought she was harsh and scary but he knew she was more compassionate than the rest of them put together. And even though she couldn’t tell him whatever was wrong he could still understand her on a…a subatomic level.

“You know if you get bored,” he leaned across the desk and went for flirty—which wasn’t really his forte, “you should find me after surgery.”

Her concern faded a fraction, “Why do you think I took this shift?” Cristina Yang even made scheduling sound sexy.

A nurse called to her and she waved as she darted out of the Pit.

And Owen allowed the mask to slip. Cristina was still being so damningly reticent. Not enough that he could say something but enough that it was painfully clear. And now there was Callie again, only this time with a lawsuit. He pulled his phone out and hit the second number on speed dial.

Callie answered after three rings. “Hey,” she said cheerfully, “I thought you had work tonight.”

A baby squalled and he heard her father scold someone before shushing the baby. There was laughter too. Like Callie was having a big dinner party.

“I was just—I heard about the lawsuit.”

“Oh. I can tell you about it later if you want, but Arizona’s here with Sloan and Abigail. Is it okay if I call you back?”

“Hi Daddy!”

“And Allegra says hi.”

“Okay,” he managed to say, “tell the kids hi, and I’ll talk to you later.”

Callie hung up and Owen found himself sitting all alone. Carlos had been laughing? With **Mark Sloan**? And of course Arizona was there and spending more time with his kids then he had lately.

And what was Owen doing? He was looking for a house to buy a woman that often times only barely tolerated his kids and couldn’t seem to open up to him unless they were under extreme emotional duress. Who was he kidding? Who was Cristina kidding?

He stood up abruptly and grabbed a hospital fleece so he could go outside and brood properly. He knew it was indulgent but he could feel himself slipping down a rabbit hole of misery all because his ex-wife was having a tiny dinner party and he needed to get away from his co-workers before he got too irrational about it and did something stupid.

“Build safe places,” his therapist said.

The quickest safe place for him was a bench outside. He tucked his hands into his pockets and hunched over and let himself be miserable for just a few minutes.

“Wow, that is some grade-A brooding.” It was Teddy, wearing a fleece of her own and grinning like she’d caught him with his pants down. “Is this an Owen Hunt only brood session Major? Or can anyone join?”

“What—what are you doing out here?”

She fell onto the bench next to him and leaned back. “Saw you rush out here. When I realized what you were doing I felt it was my time honored duty to come tell you you were being stupid.”

“I wasn’t—“

She raised an eyebrow.

Fair enough. “My therapist says if I feel a panic attack or flashback coming on I should find a safe place.”

“Sulking is not a panic attack or flashback Owen.” She leaned forward and shoved him playfully with her shoulder. “Seriously. What’s wrong?”

“Callie’s having friends over for dinner.”

It sounded even stupider saying it out loud.

But Teddy just nodded seriously, “I can understand that. It’s pretty awful watching the people you love move on without you.”

“When has that ever happened to you?”

She looked away, “It’s happened,” she said evasively. “Did you tell Cristina?”

“She’s in surgery.”

“Of course. And does she know you’re buying a house?”

 **No one** knew he was buying a house. “How—“

“I saw the brochures in the Pit, and I’ve known you nearly ten years. You’re kind of transparent.”

“Cristina doesn’t know. I haven’t even told Callie.”

Teddy chewed on her lip, “And let me guess. You’re planning on buying a place so you can surprise Cristina, and maybe show Callie you’re moving on?”

He would not dignify that very correct assumption with a response.

“If you need someone to go look at places with you I’m happy to. I even have a great realtor. She got me a wonderful deal on my condo.”

“You really want to spend a day looking at houses?”

“No, but watching you sweat having to spend a few hundred thousand dollars would be worth it.” 

She grinned cheekily and Owen laughed before pulling her into a one armed hug. “Thanks,” he said dropping a kiss on top of her head.

She dipped her head to let it rest on his shoulder and squeezed him around the middle with her arm. “No problem.”

Teddy would help him find a **great** house.

 

####

“I’m worried about Owen.” She had to voice it. Even if it was to her girlfriend who was still a little wary of her relationship with her ex. But she waited until she was in the bathroom brushing her teeth and Arizona was in the bedroom pulling the comforter down to say it.

“Why,” she asked from the other room.

Callie spit a mouthful of minty spit into the sink and leaned back on her crutches. Arizona was staring at three different pillows in her hands trying to figure out which were throws and which were for sleeping. It was adorable.

“Because he called in the middle of work to ask about the lawsuit.”

“So?”

She rinsed and turned the sink off. “So Owen isn’t like me Arizona. He’s not nosy. He’s the opposite of nosy.”

“A trait I admire.”

“And he’s not going to take a break from work to call me in the middle of dinner unless something’s up.”

Arizona absorbed that with a studious nod and slipped past Callie to use the toothbrush she was keeping in her purse. She hadn’t officially **said** she was sleeping over but her purse was gigantic compared to normal and she’d magically changed into something between lounging and sleepwear, had a toothbrush and her ride had left hours earlier.

Someone else would have found Arizona presumptuous as hell. It just made Callie feel warm all over. She carefully lowered herself onto “her” side of the bed and rolled over to tuck her crutches under the bed out of the way.

“Do you want me to talk to him when I see him at work tomorrow?”

“I think that would be the opposite of a good idea. I’ll just corner him when he comes over next.”

Arizona leaned out of the bathroom with a big sudsy grin, “You just want to use your crutches menacingly.”

“I wonder where I learned that?”

Actually when Arizona had been on crutches after her bike crash she hadn’t used them menacingly so much as she used them to trap Callie places so they could make out. It had been unbelievably hot.

Arizona’s face went all flat where another person would have scowled, “Just try not to use all my techniques on him.”

“The more intimate techniques I will practice exclusively on you.”

She finished up in the bathroom and flicked off the light. “Thanks for letting me bring Mark over tonight.”

“I actually almost tolerated him.”

“I noticed. You only looked like you wanted to stab him three or four times instead of twenty.”

“He’s just such an ass.” He was lecherous. Absolutely lecherous. And abrasive. And her dad **liked** him now and he got to spend way more time with Arizona than Callie did.

They scooted down under the covers and Arizona scooted automatically over so she could lay her head on Callie’s shoulder. Callie pulled her even closer. It just all slipped into place effortlessly. There wasn’t any concern or fear. Just an easiness Callie had never realized she’d been without before.

Arizona’s hand slipped in under Callie’s shirt and lay almost platonically flat against her stomach. “He’s a good guy if you got to know him.”

“Mm hm. You like him. That’s enough.”

“This weekend…” Arizona yawned, “could I maybe take Allegra bike riding. It’s supposed to be gorgeous and that bike seat I got for you to use hasn’t been used even once.”

She pressed her cheek to the top of Arizona’s head and tried not to feel giddy at the innocent question, “I think that’d be a great idea.”

Arizona’s eyes fell close and Callie stared up at the ceiling feeling rapturously happy for what felt like hours.

Then she fell asleep too.

But then, at four in the morning Owen called again. This time about Addison.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a little timey wimey with flashbacks and such which isn’t usually the style I use for this series. Sorry. A lady’s gotta write what she’s gotta write you know?

They came back into the room with secret smiles on their faces and Allegra in Arizona’s arms and the boys toddling after her. He wasn’t sure when it had happened. Some switch had flipped in Arizona. The woman who loved children but was terrified of them outside of a hospital was playing with three of them, and for once she didn’t look equal measures terrified and nervous.

He’d seen her interact with the kids before. Watched the way she held them at arm’s length even as she flashed a friendly smile. It was such an efficient lie of hers. One Callie had missed until Arizona pedaled over in the darkness to break her heart. But one Mark had seen, because he’d wanted to.

He’d wanted someone to commiserate with. Someone to be as terrified of the domestic as he was. But Arizona had gone up a mountain as one woman and come down as another. One willing to befriend a child and bounce her on her knee just so she could share a look with the girl’s mother over delicious empanadas.

Wow. Really delicious empanadas.

“These are amazing Carlos!” Little flakes flew out of his mouth and Arizona shot him a disgusted look. Torres smiled serenely at her dad.

“Daddy’s a great cook,” she said fondly.

“Only because I learned from the best mija.”

The cuteness was enough to make Mark throw all those empanadas up and back onto the plate. But not Arizona. She balanced her chin on Allegra’s head. One hand stayed wrapped around the girl’s waist while the other held their shared plate steady. “You cook a lot Callie?”

Apparently yes. She looked almost offended. “Um, I’m an amazing cook. Haven’t I shown you that?”

Arizona shrugged, “We’ve always done take out or eaten what I made. What else do you cook?”

“Everything. I mean, I’m known for my chicken piccata but I have, on occasion made a Beef Wellington Daddy thinks should be featured at one of his hotels.”

“Really,” Mark said in surprise. He loved a good Beef Wellington.

“The trick is skip the pate. Just go straight with the foie gras and then add the rendered fat back into the mushrooms.”

“Wow,” Arizona said, her eyes staring off into the distance, “I need to eat that.”

“Right there with you,” Mark agreed. Not that he didn’t appreciate Carlos’s empanadas, it was just…the finest cut of beef paired with mushrooms and pastry and duck? He wanted that more.

“We do it at our hotel in Vegas,” Carlos said.

Torres rolled her eyes. “Yeah, but you cover it in that horrible fake black truffle oil and charge seventy dollars a plate.”

He sipped his beer, “If the rubes of Vegas want to pay 70 dollars a plate than who am I to argue?”

“But black truffle oil Daddy.”

He waved his hand, “You just hate the stuff because you and Owen took that cooking course and the lady **told** you to hate it.”

“I can test the manufactured flavors,” she stuck her tongue out and pointed at it, “right here. Thioether right on my tongue.”

“I don’t know what that means but—“ And the father-daughter duo were arguing about organic compounds. Mark didn’t even find that interesting when he’d been acing organic chemistry in college. 

Next to him Arizona took a bite of her empanada and then had to surreptitiously wipe the crumbs off of Allegra’s head. “Sorry about that,” she mumbled when Allegra looked up at her horrified. “I was hungry.”

It was how she said it. So matter of fact. Like she expected a four year old to just comprehend her statement and be able to connect head crumbs with eager eating.

“I think we should get you a little hat like Paddington Bear to help in the future. What do you think,” she asked cheekily.

The little girl groaned. “Nooooo.”

Robbins shook her head. “How about a plate? We’ll glue one to a headband and you can just wear it. That way I never ever have to let go **and** I have a place to put my food!”

Torres must have become distracted from her argument with her dad because she was smiling goofily at Robbins while she teased the little girl in her lap.

But then Allegra said something shyly and Arizona laughed and leaned forward. “What?”

The girl said it again, just loud enough for Robbins, who fell into a peal of laughter—which was unnerving to watch for Mark.

“Tell your mother what you just told me,” she said.

Allegra, realizing she now had an audience and that her words were amusing smiled angelically, “Go to hell!”

An hour later and one long bout of mom scolding her daughter Callie settled onto the couch next to Arizona and rested her head on Robbin’s shoulder. Abigail had been stolen by the Peds surgeon earlier for a “dance party” which was really just Robbins humming the tune to obscene songs while balancing Abigail on her lap and moving her arms and legs.

Mark had settled into the big chair catty corner to the couch and watched the little domestic scene sleepily. It was the most social interaction he’d had outside the hospital since the plane crash and it had sapped every ounce of energy left in him just to make it through dinner congenially. 

Torres’s smile at watching Robbins play with his daughter slowly morphed into a frown. Her head still resting on the other woman’s shoulder she asked, “Are you humming Sir Mix-A-Lot?”

“Just the tune,” Robbins countered, “No words.”

Mark yawned, “She’s trying to subconsciously give my daughter a healthy body image.”

Torres shrugged, “I guess it can’t be too bad. I used to use Lady Marmalade as a lullaby for Allegra.”

Robbins stopped humming and tickled Abigail, “I hope her daughter never learns french. Don’t you?”

The little squeal of delight was so uncommon it actually pulled Mark out of his sleepy post dinnerness. His daughter **never** squealed in delight. She was a silent and perfectly peaceful baby.

“Did she just squeal?”

Torres stroked Abigail’s belly with her thumb, “She’s enjoying herself Dad.”

“Yeah, but, she never squeals. Ever.”

Arizona looked up with a mixture of concern and amusement, “She’s fine Mark. Just happy.”

The thing was she shouldn’t be happy. None of them should be. Addison was wasting away in a hospital bed and they were eating empanadas and playing with babies and watching Callie lecture her dad on using phrases like “go to hell” where the kids could hear. It wasn’t right. 

Wasn’t fair.

Both women were watching him now instead of his daughter. Identical looks of pity on their faces. Like they could hear his thoughts and it made them sad. Good.

Addison was dying.

How was the whole world supposed to keep moving when she was dead?

And why was a little naked boy streaking through the living room? 

The mom and her girlfriend now had identical looks of surprise on their faces. Carlos came huffing down the stairs with a towel over his shoulder and stopped at the bottom step to catch his breath.

“Has anyone seen a little naked blond boy with an aversion to baths,” he asked.

Arizona transferred Abigail into Callie’s arms and stood up, “I’ll get him.” She jogged towards the kitchen calling out after the boy. Gavin apparently.

“He’s going through a no pants stage,” Callie said by way of explanation.

There was a loud squeal and then Arizona returned to the room with a naked little boy slung over her shoulder. “You know,” she said, “if he doesn’t want to get in the bathtub we can always just put him outside and spray him with the hose.”

Gavin squealed to express his displeasure at this plan.

“What? It’s only in the fifties. You’ll be fine,” she patted his bare bottom.

Apparently the threat was enough for Gavin. He went slack in her arms and was returned to his grandfather with minimum fuss. Still Arizona ran her hand through his hair. From a distance their coloring was almost the same. Like she could be his mother instead of Torres.

“You know, I’ve got a great story about me and my brother and baths. You want me to help you get ready for bed and maybe tell you?”

The little boy nodded and Carlos gladly handed him back over. This time Robbins rested him on her hip and walked up the stairs quietly beginning her tale. It seemed to involve a lot of bubbles and her dad’s claim to being a hairdresser. Carlos followed them up, presumably to get the other two ready for bed.

Which left Mark all alone with Callie Torres, the only adult in the home who didn’t seem too fond of him.

It wasn’t anything really overt like she actively hated him. She just didn’t seem to like him. Her smile would falter a little bit when he spoke up, as if just being reminded of his existence was enough to worsen her mood.

And Mark could sort of understand. All they had in common was Robbins and his relationship with her was way more awesome and intimate (in a non-sex way) than Torres’s. The woman was jealous of him. Who wouldn’t be most days? 

He actually kind of liked that she was quietly envious of him and irritated by him and only out of Arizona’s sight. It meant she cared enough to want what he had with Robbins. Maybe not yet enough for him to give his blessing—she’d jerked Arizona around almost as badly as Arizona had her, but she was on her way.

“You’ve got cute kids Torres.”

She smiled politely and because Mark had grown up in Manhattan surrounded by really rich alcoholics who hid their feelings behind fake smiles and congeniality he recognized the smile all too well. Maybe she did actually hate him?

Which would make small talk between the two of them difficult.

And why did she hate him? It was more than jealously. He was emotionally intimate with Robbins, sure, but Torres was the one cuddling up to her at night. Was it because he gave her the stink eye a few times while she was trying to decide what she wanted to be with Arizona? Had she heard his very complimentary comments about her physique that had led to Arizona hitting him in the stomach? Was it him and Addison? Was she jealous of **that** too? Or was it some weird aversion to guys like him? Because that would be pretty hypocritical coming from a woman dating Arizona Robbins.

“Your daughter’s also pretty dang adorable,” she said. The casual use of “dang” at odds with that stiff smile.

“So…when are you headed back to work?”

She moved a little on the couch, like she was trying to get comfortable. Her bad leg was in a brace and stuck straight out in front of her. It had to be awkward, always sitting with one leg jutting out like that.

“Next week if all goes well.”

“They’re letting you back into the OR on that?” He pointed at her leg.

She grimaced. “No, but hopefully I’ll be able to do consults. Teach skills labs. There’s a lot to do in the cardiothoracics department that doesn’t involve OR time.”

Skills labs, and probably zapping heart fat with little lasers in outpatient procedures. “I don’t know how you could stand that. I’d be itching to cut something after being out of the OR as long as you have.”

That plastered smile just got bigger, “Yeah, well some of us have self-control.”

He snorted. Coming from Torres? The woman was so manufactured and put together most days it was a wonder she didn’t have a “Made in the USA” sticker on her perfect but slightly robotic ass. Until Arizona had slept with her she’d been wound up than the girdle her mother probably wore to a big stuffy church. He’d met nuns more fun than the love of Robbins’ life.

“What’s so funny?”

“You should loosen up Torres.”

“Really? What part of single lesbian mom with an aging hipster for a girlfriend did **you** miss. I am the **definition** of loose.” He waited for it to sink in. She blushed. “I mean—I’m not **loose** loose. Strictly monogamous. Unlike some people in this room.”

“I haven’t slept with a woman since Addison.”

Damn it. Mark said her name. He’d tried not to, and they’d all been nice enough not to say it either. He’d spent every second thinking about her but he hadn’t actually said her name out loud and that had made it…easier.

Because seeing Callie Torres’s pitying face was bad, but seeing it and knowing precisely why she pitied him was infinitely worse.

They didn’t attempt to talk much after that. Torres was content to play with his daughter and Mark was perfectly happy sitting there and quietly sipping his beer. It was odd. As far as Mark knew he was one of Robbins’ closest friends, and as far as he knew Torres was the great love of her life. And the two of them couldn’t even sit alone in a room together with a baby without descending into the awkward silence of people not especially fond of one another.

When Robbins reappeared twenty minutes later flushed and a little wet Mark sat up straight and Torres moved on the couch like she wanted to actually…do something. Get up or walk around or something.

“Wow,” Arizona said, “What’s up with you two?”

“Just enjoying the quiet,” Torres offered. Mark wasn’t going to argue, because Robbins would nag him later if he did.

But she caught onto the quiet well enough. Her eyes narrowing but her tone a little mysterious, “Right.”

Mark pushed himself up and out of his chair. “So, I should probably head home.”

Arizona tilted her head but smiled, “Okay, I’ll walk you out?”

She missed Torres’s little happy startled look. These two women with all their exhausting baggage and unsaid affections were going to drive Mark up the wall. He knew Arizona well enough to know she had no idea what she was doing. She didn’t realize she was just slotting into place in Torres’s life and making a home.

Torres did. She caught Mark’s eye on accident and her secret little smile faltered. She knew what was happening to her girlfriend but wasn’t about to say anything—probably because she didn’t want to ruin it.

Mark didn’t really want to either. As annoying as their back and forth was it was kind of…nice to see someone he liked genuinely happy. He told her as much outside while she sat in the back seat and carefully locked Abigail’s seat into place.

“You’re happy in there Robbins.”

She smiled but didn’t look up from her work. “I am.”

“Domestic.”

“Says the guy with a baby.”

“And you love her?”

She looked back over her shoulder at him. “She makes the world easier Mark. Even with the kids just being with Callie—or knowing she’s out there? It makes it an easier place to live.”

Addison was that way too. A text from her could pull Mark through a whole day. A smile could last him a month. Even when they’d been separated as she tried to make it work with Derek just **knowing** she was out there in the world made it a brighter place.

Robbins turned in her seat and hung her legs outside of the car. Mark leaned against the open door and watched as she rubbed her hands against her pants.

“Am I crazy,” she asked.

Mark shrugged. He had no idea. “I’m probably not the guy to ask.”

“No, Amelia’s not the person to ask. You’re relatively sane.”

He didn’t feel sane. He felt like he was being peeled apart by the world with all his nerves exposed to open air. “You survived something awful Robbins. It’s natural to go to ground after that.”

She looked past him to the warmly lit house, “I still haven’t really told my parents about her. Or the kids.”

“So you’ll tell them. And you’ll date her. And then one day one of you will give the other a key. And you’ll move in and swear a vow to never fly in a plane again and you’ll live your life. Doesn’t sound so bad to me.”

Her eyes flickered from the house to Mark. They were alarmingly sharp. The wistfulness and lazy joy they’d carried since they’d walked into that house fell away to reveal the astute world class surgeon. “You’ll survive this Mark.”

Had he been so transparent? “We’re getting to the point where we’re gonna have to meet the terms of her living will.” Where they’d have to turn off machines and watch the last few breaths slowly leak from her lungs.

Arizona’s hand reached out to snatch his, “And whatever happens you’ll survive.”

Without Addison? Mark didn’t think it was possible. She was it for him. Beginning and end. They’d dance around each other for more years than he could count and they’d **finally** gotten their moment and she was dying.

He knew it was selfish but he knew he couldn’t survive without her. If she died…if she died then Abigail would be an orphan. That notion was dark and horrible.

But damn it. It was true.

 

####

Lexie turned over in the middle of the night to find Amelia sitting cross-legged at the window with an unlit cigarette in her hand. Her eyes were distant and lit only by the orange glow of the street lamp. It made them almost green.

She pushed herself up into a sitting position and called out to Amelia quietly. But it took Amelia too long a moment to turn back. Dark thoughts were clearly churning in her head.

Lexie stepped out of bed and wrapped a blanket around her shoulders before coming to stand next to her seated girlfriend. They didn’t always have to process everything. Case in point, dinner that night, when Lexie freaked out over a lawsuit she wasn’t even a part of and Amelia just understood and held her.

Amelia was having her own muted freak out now—though unrelated to the lawsuit. It was the same concern that sent her into a melancholic haze every time since the accident.

Addison. 

Lexie didn’t quite understand the connection. She had two sisters. One hated her, lived in another state and avoided all her calls and letters, and the other she’d only just met. Addison was that sister she’d dreamt of and still hoped Meredith would be. She got Amelia ready for prom and saw her through rehab back during her residency. She was there for her when Amelia’s own **actual** sisters couldn’t be.

She’d even found a way to be with her during Amelia’s recent relapse. Before the crash they’d started to patch up everything Amelia had broken. But Lexie still couldn’t imagine losing someone that dear—because she’d never had someone like that.

She knelt next to her girlfriend and placed a hand gently on her knee. Amelia looked down at the touch then into Lexie’s eyes. “I’m okay.”

“We can go to the hospital if you want? Sit with her.”

She ducked her head in agreement and looked back out the window, “I just feel like something’s up today. Like I need to be there. I know it’s stupid and it’s probably just because you mentioned that lawsuit but—“

She squeezed her knee, “Let’s get dressed.”

They held hands all the way to the hospital. Neither of them were particularly physically affectionate. They never needed to just touch. Touching was for sex or quick moments of comfort, but they held hands that night. Amelia’s clever fingers wrapped tightly around Lexie’s.

Lexie could feel it too—the need to be there at Addison’s bedside. Maybe it was just Amelia’s only anxiety coloring her thoughts. No, it most definitely was that, but seeing the lights of Seattle Grace in the distance settled Lexie’s nerves.

She pulled into her parking space and turned to face Amelia, who’d let go of her hand to gather her purse.

“Amelia? Whatever happens…I’m here.” It was a big statement. Not just because what they had was weird and friendly and emotionally messy and intense, but because hours earlier Lexie **couldn’t** have been there. But a crisis had risen and even though it was all hopefully in Amelia’s head the daughter of an alcoholic rose to the occasion. It’s what they did. They either acted out messily or they became good little men in the storm. She wanted to finally be the latter.

Amelia didn’t reach out to hold her hand. She just winked and smiled. “I know,” was such an easy statement but her soft tone revealed her understanding.

They got out of the car and avoided holding hands. Instead they just walked so closely together the sleeves of their jackets brushed against one another. They had to go through the ER at such a late hour and Owen Hunt sat at the desk sorting though paperwork. He looked up at the sound of the door and looked between them puzzled.

“Everything okay?”

Amelia reseated her bag on her shoulder—a nervous habit, “Yeah, I was just going up to see—“

He nodded, “Right.”

“Is Mark there,” Lexie asked. She knew Addison’s fiancé basically lived in the room. He and Amelia were still a little at odds, particularly over her relationship with Lexie, and if he was there she’d planned to maybe just offer her support from the hallway.

Hunt shook his head, “I don’t think so. He was doing dinner with Callie and Robbins tonight. Probably went home after that.” He abruptly shut the chart he’d been working on and stacked it on some others then gathered up the whole collection. “Mind if I head up with you? I’ve got a patient I need to check on anyways.”

Lexie wasn’t about to protest and neither was Amelia. They didn’t really know the guy outside of what Amelia’s former sex friend/roommate had said.

“Sure,” Amelia agreed with a shrug.

They walked together in silence, taking the elevator and doing that awkward thing where they all stared at the passing floors instead of engaging in conversation. Hunt’s eyes flickered over to Amelia a few times and he looked like he wanted to say something—probably about Robbins, but he never actually did.

The elevator doors finally opened to an unexpected amount of activity for a floor devoted to patients’ rooms. Any awkwardness evaporated as the two surgeons shifted into doctor mode, their backs going straight and their movements turning surprisingly efficient.

Amelia grabbed a nurse, “What happened?”

The nurse recognized her and blanched. Then looked back mutely towards Addison’s room. Amelia’s eyes widened in horror and she rushed down the hall, Lexie and Hunt hot on her heels.

Monitors noisily beeped. No longer was their sound rhythmic and peaceful. A nurse at the nurse’s station let her phone fall from her hand at the sight of them. Owen didn’t even looked into the room, he slammed his charts down onto the counter and pointed at the nurse. “Page Altman or Yang, whoever’s closer.”

Lexie started to follow him into the room but both were blocked by Amelia, who stood frozen in the doorway her breath coming so fast she was hyperventilating.

Then she just sort of fell to her knees.

 

####

Mark wouldn’t survive.

Mark couldn’t survive.

He was a pretty self-aware guy. He knew he was a bastard. He could point out his every flaw in a mirror and provide a list of all the internal ones to any therapist who asked.

And if Addison died Mark knew he wouldn’t live.

It was just fact.

When you loved someone like Mark loved Addison how were you supposed to live without them? How could you find the energy to keep your heart beating? Or to care for the child they could abandon?

He loved his daughter, but gun to his head Mark loved Addison more. If she died, he died.

He looked down at the buzzing phone in his hands. Caller ID said it was Amelia. Amelia who would never call so late at night. If it was surgical they’d page her. If she was loaded she wouldn’t use the phone.

There was only one reason she’d call him late at night.

Addison.

His thumb hover over the SEND button.

If she died, he died.

 

####

When the call came Arizona was standing at her locker about to shove her stethoscope in her pocket. She saw the number on the phone, saw it wasn’t local and picked up. 

It was Nick on the other side and her lips curved up into a smile at the sound of his voice. But the smile froze as she realized he was crying. It was evening in Afghanistan. He might have had a long day and needed a friend.

But Tim was his friend and they were in the same unit. If he needed a friend he would have gone to his best friend, not his best friend’s sister.

The edges of her smile fell. Her hand fell. The other one was attached to the phone and pressed to her ear but it didn’t feel like a part of her. Nothing felt like a part of her. It was like she was floating.

She didn’t handle death well. 

“He’s gone,” Nick said. Sobbing. The big special forces Army guy who agreed with Tim that going Army just to piss of their Marine dads would be fun was sobbing. He never sobbed. Not even when they saw Terminator 2.

Arizona didn’t have to ask who. She just had to keep strong enough to hold the phone to her ear and listen to the story, stilted and hurried and impossible.

Nick apologized. And Arizona said the only words she **could** say. It came from being a doctor. From standing at the bedsides of the dying and watching them plead with forces beyond their control. It was reflexive—the words. They just came out as naturally as ‘you’re welcome’ followed ‘thank you.”

“It’s okay.”

Uttered so easily. Words that made it seem like she was there on the phone staring into her locker while the other residents milled around her. Words a living person said to another. Words of comfort.

She didn’t handle death well.

Eventually the line went dead. Nick said words. Arizona listened. Then emptiness. Finally she could let go of the phone and she slipped it gently into her locker and closed the door on it.

Phones were miserable creations dealing only in death. She didn’t even want to look at it again.

“Robbins!”

The chief resident was shouting at her. She inhaled. Exhaled. Turned. The mask a good doctor wore tried to fall into place but there were hundreds of cracks in it because her brother was dead. He’d died and she couldn’t slip into the role of doctor as easily as usual.

“I’m sorry,” she said calmly, “but there’s been a death in the family. I have to go.”

Normally she would have changed out of her scrubs and lab coat and put back on her bulky winter boots. But her brother was dead and she didn’t really care. She drifted past the chief resident who was looking at her sadly and saying something about taking a few days.

A few days?

Her brother was dead.

She walked down the hallway and with each step more of the world started to register. The sound of the air conditioning and the people and the beep beep beep of machines. The world moved up through the soles of her feet and into her legs with each step reminding her that things kept moving forward even as her brother lay dead. Twenty-seven. He’d forever be twenty-seven. He’d never see twenty-eight. He’d never see his son. Or Christmas. Or the next Lord of the Rings film.

Arizona would get old. Crow’s feet would form around the eyes and she’d find gray at her temples and spots would form on her hands but Tim would always be twenty-seven and smiling, perched on the lip of the bed of his truck in his BDUs, a pair of sunglasses wrapped around his eyes and the biggest smile possible on his face with his hand extended down to her.

“Come on little sis.”

“Not a chance little brother.”

She didn’t handle death well.

Shepherd was outside catching one last cigarette before facing rounds. She frowned. “Robbins? What’s up?”

She and Shepherd didn’t get along very well. Shepherd was brilliant but could be reckless and Arizona was shrewd and a little too cutthroat. They avoided one another most days.

Shepherd offered her a cigarette when she didn’t say anything. Arizona crossed the parking garage and accepted it. Shepherd tried to light it but her lighter was out of fluid. So she stepped in close and cupped her hands around both their cigarettes. The edge of her hands pressed against Arizona’s cheeks as the tip of her cigarette touched Arizona’s.

Inhale. Exhale.

The cigarette lit and Shepherd’s hands dropped to her sides but she didn’t step back. She watched Arizona closely. “Usually you’re telling me to fuck off right about now.” One finger darted out to stroke Arizona’s waist.

Arizona dropped her cigarette and pulled Shepherd’s from her fingers. She crushed it beneath her foot as she pushed the other woman back towards her car. Her hand curled against Shepherd’s cheek and she leaned in and kissed her.

It was an awful kiss. Sloppy. It tasted of cigarettes. Shepherd’s arms were loose around her, and her skin was clammy. Arizona’s thigh pressed against Shepherd and her hand clutched at her breast. Then Shepherd was pushing on her and shoving her back, wiping at her mouth. Her hair had fallen in front of her glassy eyes.

“Dyke,” she spat. 

Arizona pushed forward again, only this time her hand cupped Shepherd, her fingers pressing up against the crotch of her pants, “I’m not the one so loaded she’s late for rounds.” She pushed away, “Bitch.”

She turned abruptly and stalked towards her own car. The numbness from the phone call had disappeared in that messy kiss and now the world was hard and loud and pressed up against her from all sides. She was so busy trying to shut it all out again she didn’t hear Shepherd running after her calling her name. Not until the woman caught her shoulder and spun her around, “What the fuck’s wrong with you Robbins?”

It just fell out.

“My brother’s dead.”

Shepherd nodded like a patient was telling her they had pain in their lower back. “You want to go get really blitzed and fool around?”

She did. So they did. Two entire days where it was a miracle she didn’t get anything worse than the clap from a bartender they took to a hotel.

Nick arrived at that same hotel still in his BDUs. His eyes were blood shot from sleep or crying. He pounded on the door and she answered it in her underwear.

She and Nick had grown up together. They’d promised each other that they’d get old together. She’d even assured him she’d marry him out of pity if he never found someone just so she could get his Army benefits. They didn’t need words. He didn’t need to scold her. She didn’t need to apologize.

He crossed the threshold and pulled her into a hug and she cried until her tears had soaked through his shirt and her throat hurt. He took her home and they curled up on her bed and held one another, because it was easier than talking and infinitely preferable to crying.

Eventually he said, “We have to go to the hanger.”

To retrieve the body.

“Your parents are a mess Yuma. It’s gotta be us.”

She knew that. She hadn’t spoken with her parents once since Nick called but she knew them both well enough. They’d go out hunting or fishing. They’d act like the world was level when it had clearly tilted off its axis. But if they went to that hanger that facade they’d schooled from more than thirty years in the military would fall apart. He’d cry and she’d wail and whatever last little scrap of the Colonel and his wife that was left would disappear.

So they had to retrieve the body. And they’d have to arrange the funeral. And they’d have to help Tim’s wife.

And in the end they’d have to be the ones to mourn him, because none of the rest of them could.

She didn’t handle death well.

But it was a family trait.

She was back on that bed pulling herself together in Nick’s arm and trying to fathom a future without Tim when Callie answered her ringing cellphone.

“It’s Addison,” she said distractedly. And Arizona could only remember Tim and the hole she’d fallen into and barely pulled herself out of. Addison wasn’t the same as Tim—not by a long shot. But her dying put Arizona on the precipice of grief too complicated and large to properly fathom. 

She didn’t handle death well but she’d buried Erica in the woods and suffered her girlfriend’s accusations. She’d been there for Callie. She’d been the little solider trained by her father to perform in a crisis, but Addison…her dying would be the last pebble on the gravel hill.

She could feel it. The panic, and the numbness that followed so closely on its heels. Callie reached out in the darkness to hold her hand tightly and Arizona bowed her head and tried to think about anything but the grieving she’d have to do and she knew she couldn’t.

She didn’t handle death well damn it. Didn’t they know that? Didn’t whatever God that had put her on the earth understand that she wasn’t tempered steel but hard iron. She broke in the cold. Fractured under the most violent stress.

But Callie’s words filtered through Arizona’s dark thoughts and then a smile graced her lips. She said something to Owen. Thanked him and clicked the phone off. Then turned to Arizona.

She didn’t handle death well.

But a reprieve from it she could handle happily.

 

####

Callie had made it to see Addison exactly once after the crash. She did it quietly. Arizona would have hovered and Mark would have insisted on being in the room. After her knee replacement she acquired a wheelchair from a nurse open to bribes of twenty dollars and went to see a woman she’d consider a friend.

They weren’t best friends. Callie didn’t really **have** a best friend. Maybe Arizona. Or Owen. Addison was more a work friend, like Bailey. She was someone she could chat about family with and commiserate about work and never be at a loss for conversation.

But they weren’t each other’s confidants.

Cases in point, Arizona and Mark.

Callie didn’t know about Mark until Derek’s fist was slamming into his nose and Arizona was being all dashing and swooping in with Owen to help break it up. As for Arizona, she and Addison had never officially discussed her, or Callie’s fluid sexual identity. That seemed like a subject broached with a best friend.

Bailey was in the room when she arrived, looking down at Addison thoughtfully. She didn’t even look up as Callie wheeled herself in. “Shouldn’t you be laid up in a hospital bed healing?”

“Shouldn’t you be doing busy down in Peds doing—Peds stuff,” she countered not so hotly.

“I am. I’ve got a procedure in fifteen minutes that Addison was supposed to be doing. It’s been on the schedule a month and a half. Robbins assigned it to me this morning.” She continued to study the comatose woman, “I suppose I was just coming down here for…inspiration.”

Callie wheeled close and turned the chair so her outstretched leg wouldn’t bump into Addison’s bed. It wasn’t a great vantage point. Addison’s bed was just tall enough and Callie’s chair was just short enough. But it gave her a serviceable enough view of her friend.

“Between her and Robbins we have **the** best surgical NICU in the country. And I’m good, but it feels funny taking a surgery intended for Dr. Montgomery Forbes.”

Formerly Shepherd. She’d changed the name and it has stuck with alarming ease. Callie was forever grateful for her decision to keep her own name professionally. She didn’t have quite the clout Addison had. If she’d gone by Doctor Hunt she’d still probably **be** Doctor Hunt.

“Arizona wouldn’t put you on the case if she didn’t think you could handle it.”

A sharp glance from Bailey spoke volumes. She’d noticed how Callie said “Arizona” and she probably heard some of that optimism that had no place in the voice of her jaded fellow former resident. But Bailey wouldn’t actually **comment** on the relationship. She abhorred the personal unless it was bitching about the residents and interns they were stuck with.

In another place—another life—it might have frustrated Callie. She always had the urge to say everything on her mind and exactly when it was occurred, but working under Ellis Grey had drilled the oversharer almost completely out of Callie and having someone like Bailey, who not only had to deal with the same coworkers but abhorred overshares as much as Callie had learned to helped. At least at work.

At home Callie would still gladly outline every thought that was in her head. Which was probably why she was friends with only her girlfriend and her ex-husband instead of amazing surgeons like Bailey or Addison.

“Arizona’s a good doctor,” Bailey said evenly, “and she’s right about me, but that doesn’t change the feeling.” She leaned over the bed and stared intensely at Addison, “I hate comas like this one. They don’t make any damned sense. These healthy and happy people just sleeping and never waking up.”

“She’s probably just exhausted,” Callie cracked, “a new baby, Mark Sloan for a fiancé and our trip to the woods is enough to wear anyone out.”

Bailey, being Bailey, didn’t ask for her to elaborate on the woods or the disdain for Mark that eked out when she said his name.

“Yeah, well she better wake her butt up before Robbins takes her job **and** her paycheck.” She said the last bit leaning close. Like the idea of diminished income would yank Addison right out.

It didn’t.

Bailey glanced at her watch and sighed. “I guess I better go save a small child.” She said it almost like it was a hassle, but Callie knew better and smiled reservedly.

Bailey’s hand dropped to her shoulder as she passed. It was just a quick and gentle squeeze. Hardly a hug or tears or words of comfort, but from Bailey it was all of that and more. “She’ll get better” that hand said. “You’ll get better.”

Bailey left and Callie sat alone with her friend and floundered for words to say. She settled on “Wake up Addison. You left my girlfriend and a fellow in charge and they’re going to steal all the cool surgeries and leave you with nothing but appies for the rest of your career.”

The threat of the most boring career ever didn’t work. So she told her about her kids, and her own surgeries and then complained about the man Addison was engaged to marry. When nothing work she wheeled away, stopping at the door just long enough to look back and hope—really hope—that Addison inert and still on a bed wouldn’t be her last image of her.

It wasn’t.

Addison slept for a month and woke up asking for a Diet Coke. 

 


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These chapters just keep getting longer! As for last chapter…
> 
> ARIZONA DID NOT CHEAT ON CALLIE. That was a flashback to when her brother died in the early aughts. Hence her being really nasty, having a chief resident, calling Amelia “Shepherd” and being sad that her brother wouldn’t see another Lord of the Rings film. The style was a bit of an experiment for me. Sometimes experiments succeed and sometimes they have people reviewing and being scandalized by out of left field infidelity. Sorry about that.
> 
> Just two more chapters until the finale! It looks like the third sequel won’t be until March. Bummer but that means more time to focus on Just Two Weeks and Hamilton Gregg!

Not being the biggest morning person Callie was feeling a little confused. Because she was fully awake, up early, and giddy. Actually giddy. Giddy like the girls that used to give her the stink eye in high school. If she were any giddier, and didn’t have a leg in a brace, she’d have kicked her legs exuberantly and possibly squealed.

It wasn’t normal.

So she tried to channel all the giddy noises just **yearning** to come out into a laugh. Arizona popped her head out of the bathroom. Her toothbrush was jutting out of her mouth and one eyebrow was raised. “You’re excited,” she said. Her own amusement colored her voice.

“I’m just happy.” 

She could almost shout.

Arizona’s head disappeared but her voice called from the bathroom, “About Addison?”

“Yeah. Addison, and everything.” Six months ago she’d been a step away from miserable and now she had a girlfriend who slept over and a father who accepted her and an ex who didn’t hate her and three gorgeous kids.

Everyone had someone out there. That one person that looked at them like they built the world. Callie came to Seattle hoping she’d find that person, and instead she’d had unprotected sex with Owen and got knocked up and married.

Now…now she had that person—coming out of the bathroom in nothing but a t-shirt and panties and straddling Callie’s waist, mindful of her leg. Her naked thighs were hot against Callie. “Happy looks good on you.” 

Callie ran her hands across the bare taunt skin of Arizona’s legs then caught both of her hands, twining their fingers together and pulling them above her head so Arizona was forced to lean down, and directly into a gentle kiss.

She sighed against those coral lips and nuzzled Arizona’s nose. “I could get used to this.”

“Being happy,” she said coyly.

“Yeah,” she responded in all seriousness.

Arizona frowned. She didn’t move away. She stayed close. But she studied Callie. “You weren’t happy?”

Being a surgeon? It made Callie happy. But cardio? It never sang to her like ortho. And having kids? It put her out of her mind with happiness. But having them with Owen? That had always dampened it. Yet Arizona in her arms, her legs clamped around her and her face only an inch from Callie’s? Not even her dad’s lingering concern or Owen’s reservation could diminish it. When married with three beautiful kids and a job she loved? Yeah. 

But “Not like I am now,” she said.

Arizona whispered, “Glad I could help.” 

Kissing Arizona was natural. Like breathing air or hugging her kids. It felt right and it always had. Even that first ardent one in Webber and Yang’s bathroom when Arizona had thrust her tongue into Callie’s mouth and drank her in like air it was just…right.

She opened her mouth to a more heated kiss then and Arizona settled against her, bracing herself with her elbows on either side of Callie’s head and falling into her. Callie let her hands roam again. Her fingertips running over warm skin and trying to memorize ever inch of it. She slipped her hands in under the hem of Arizona’s shirt and dug her fingers into Arizona’s back, wrenching a moan from her girlfriend in the process.

Arizona thrust against her almost involuntarily and Callie’s hands darted down to her ass to steady her pace. She slowed the kiss too. Forcing Arizona’s to take it slow. 

“It’s early,” she whispered against her mouth. “We’ve got time.”

Arizona smiled mischievously before tugging on Callie’s lower lip. She didn’t say anything. She didn’t have to. She thrust against her again, this time almost pointedly, rolling her hips seductively.

Callie pulled at the underwear working as a barrier between her and her girlfriend. “Maybe we can go a little fast.”

They hadn’t slept together since before the crash. Not really. There’d been that one moment of Arizona’s enterprising and Callie-only pain relief but the intimacy they’d only briefly shared before their breakup was elusive.

Callie wanted that back.

Getting the underwear off would take precious seconds—and though they had all the time in the world there was still the matter of urgent need. And for Callie that need was to touch Arizona.

She palmed her through the thin material of her underwear. Arizona’s eyes slammed shut on the touch. Her mouth opened in a muted gasp.

There it was. 

Seeing the way Arizona reacted **just** for Callie. She pressed the knuckle of her thumb up against Arizona’s center then dragged it back and forth and watched the sensation play vibrantly across Arizona’s face. There was a particular way she gasped. A way her eyes fluttered open as if to make sure Callie was really still there, only to slam shut again when Callie’s fingers moved past the pesky fabric.

She sat up straight and almost fell backwards but Callie caught her with her good leg, propping her up against her knee. Callie’s hand didn’t have the freedom she would have preferred but her fingers found wet and wanting flesh that she could caress gently. Arizona sighed at her touch.

With three fingers she thrust upward suddenly slipping into Arizona fully and gasping at the contact. Arizona moaned again but at Callie’s urgings she moved, riding Callie’s hand. Her hands fell on Callie’s shoulder to give herself better purchase and Callie took the opportunity to curl her fingers forward, finding that one spot and stroking it with her finger tips.

Arizona’s eyes shot open as she continued to ride Callie’s hand. Her fingers dug into Callie’s shoulders and her breath came in short and noisy gasps. She pushed back again, moving against Callie and hovering above her like a goddess.

Callie wasn’t just happy any more. She was ecstatic. And the flushed woman above her was somehow a huge part of that.

But then three tiny sets of feet were loudly pounding down the stairs. Arizona’s eyes darted to Callie’s. The panic they shared overwhelmed whatever intimacy they’d been so close to finding.

Callie didn’t know what to—she panicked, pulling her hands away from Arizona and shoving her off almost violently. Arizona thumped to the ground on her ass and before she could protest Callie’s less then gracious ending to their moment Callie was motioning to the space under the bed.

Arizona slipped under just in time. The door flew open and Allegra, Gavin and Angus all rushed in—taking flying leaps onto the recently vacated bed. Callie wiped her hand clean against the sheet beneath her before pulling all three kids towards her. “Hey you guys,” she said brightly.

It was six in the morning—not an unreasonable time for them to get up. Bailey assured her that as they got older they’d sleep longer, but at the moment they were all still stuck at that age where they woke up impossibly early and were ready for the day while normal people grumbled and pulled pillows over their heads.

She snuggled with them a little, still mindful of the woman hidden under the bed. Fortunately Arizona was very quiet and none of the kids noticed her bag sitting in the chair near the window.

“Is Arizona coming over tonight,” Allegra asked innocently.

“She might,” she could practically **feel** her underneath the bed. Was she mad? Amused? 

“I like her. She’s funny.”

“She is.”

Angus laid his head on Callie’s good leg and looked up, “Where’s Daddy,” he asked.

Callie sucked in a breath at the question. It wasn’t him simply asking it—that was natural. They’d explained to all three of them that they weren’t living together but it was not always the easiest situation to grasp.

The problem was how Angus asked it. Sadly. He shouldn’t sound so sad. No child his age should. He should be exuberant about the day and eager to see new things—not forlorn because he hadn’t seen his father.

“Your daddy’s at work. But I have to go see my friend Addison today, do you all remember her?”

“She’s sick,” Allegra supplied.

“Right, but I got a call this morning and she’s better, so I want to see her. And I was thinking that I could take you three with me so you could see Daddy. How does that sound?”

Three excited cheers were her response. After a little more morning chatter she managed to lure them out of the room with promise of extra PBS time. All three dashed out, Gavin pausing and coming back to the door to shut it.

As soon as it clicked close Arizona pulled herself out from under the bed, but made no move to stand up. “Wow,” she said.

“Sorry—“

“I don’t think I’ve had to hide under a bed since,” she rolled her eyes up in thought, “med school?”

“It’s because it was the kids. If it had been Daddy—“

“It’s comforting to know I’m still spry enough to hide under a bed,” she continued, “because it really requires a lot more effort then you’d assume once you’re past the age of six or seven.”

“Arizona.”

Her hopefully still girlfriend smiled, “I’m okay.”

Only problem was Callie wasn’t. “I shouldn’t have to hide you.”

“No, you shouldn’t. And if that’d been your dad or something I’d probably be really pissed, but they’re your kids Callie,” she sat up and scooted close to the edge of the bed, taking Callie’s hand in hers. “I like to think this was all more about you not being ready to tell them you’re seeing someone so soon after Owen.”

“It is.”

“Because if it’s the woman thing—“

“I don’t care that you’re a woman.”

Arizona raised an eyebrow.

“I mean I do—sort of. If you were a guy you wouldn’t be Arizona and our feelings might not be the same or something because heeey penis instead of vagina which is valid but I kind of like your vagina. No. No I love your vagina.” Arizona blinked in surprise. “And I just got ranty about your vagina. But it’s a fantastic one and it’s not the problem. Me being gay—for you isn’t the problem. They’re young and Owen and I aren’t bigots and as far as I know no one’s been whispering homophobia in their ears. So it’s not lesbian you.” Arizona had let go of her hand somewhere around the third vagina and was now leaning back and studying Callie with amusement. “It’s the me dating.”

“Right. I kind of suggested as much back before you professed your love for my vagina.”

“We’ve said the word so many times in the last thirty-seconds that it sounds funny now.”

Arizona’s face screwed up in thought.

“Va-gi-na,” Callie said slowly, enunciating every syllable.

“Nope. Still sounds pretty awesome to me,” she said coyly. Callie smacked her lightly in the face with her pillow and Arizona caught it, following it back up to the bed which she sat at the edge of. “I understand,” she said seriously. “They’re your kids.”

“I have to talk to Owen too. He’s with Yang now and he might want to—I don’t know—“

“Kill two birds with one stone?”

“We could take the kids out to one of those awful ball pit places and just unload it all at once.”

“Ooo I love those places!”

Callie frowned, but Arizona was already dreamily thinking of ball pits. “The Colonel was stationed in Albany, Georgia when Tim and I were in second grade and Mom would always take us there when he was going to be held up at work. First girl I ever kissed was in a ball pit.”

“In second grade.”

“I was an early bloomer,” she said sagely.

“My mom always said we’d get gonorrhea from ball pits.”

Arizona was appalled, “What kind of ball pits was she taking you to!”

“I think she was just exaggerating…I hope. And that was mainly directing at my sister who took me to one when I was ten and then left me there alone for two hours.”

Aria had been seeing a guy she didn’t want her mother or stepfather to know about and offered to take Callie out as a cover. It hadn’t been **that** bad. She played skee ball and won a Minnie Mouse watch that she was fairly certain was still in a shoebox in a closet at her parents’ house.

“Anyways,” she continued, “Owen and I need to tell them. I just have to talk to him about it first.”

“You know I’m not rushing you on this.” Arizona took up her hand a laid a kiss on her knuckles. “They’re **your** kids. You and Owen set the pace.”

“I know, but you’re a part of things now Arizona. A **big** part of things, and I don’t want you stuck hiding under the bed for the next six months because Owen and I can’t be bothered to be honest with our kids. My mom did that to Aria when she married my dad and it nearly ruined their relationship. I won’t do that to my kids, and I won’t ask that you lie for me either.”

She got a crooked smile as payment for that little speech. It was funny how empathetic that particular smile was on Arizona. Like she understood everything and was content to just…flow. The opposite of her very Type-A personality. Was it because she didn’t care? Was whatever happened with Callie and her children just extraneous to her? Or was it because she—she trusted Callie enough to let her take the lead?

She didn’t get an answer. Arizona stood up and stretched then offered a hand to Callie. “Come on, I need to show up on your doorstep in a sec and surprise you with an early morning visit and you need to feed me breakfast.” Arizona hauled her up with nary a grunt and they came nose to nose. “And then tonight we need to celebrate everything ever.”

“Ever?”

“We’re alive Callie,” her hands ran up Callie’s arms, “and healthy, relatively, and who knows what will happen with this lawsuit or how you’re kids are going to take things.” They settled on her shoulders, bringing Callie closer. 

She rested her own hands on Arizona’s waist. 

“So tonight I need to take you out for a very expensive dinner and then we need to spend at least two hours ravishing each other in my apartment which I will make sure is Amelia Shepherd free.”

“Hm, you’ve put a lot of thought into this.”

Arizona shrugged, “Or I came up with this idea after getting paused mid coitus and while staring at dust bunnies under your bed.”

She held onto Arizona tight but tilted her body, balancing on one leg to peek under the bed, “There aren’t dust bunnies down there!”

Arizona laughed and righted her, “There are. Hundreds. You need to talk to Carlos about that. He’s slacking on the job as your very manly housekeeper. Keeping your bedroom decidedly untidy.”

“Nope. I’m not doing it.” Arizona looked surprise, but Callie pressed on. “You and I are going to walk out of this bedroom and I am not coming back here for at least twelve hours because I’ve been in here so long I’m surprised my ass hasn’t fused to the mattress.”

Sneaky fingers pinched her bottom. “Can’t have that.”

“I didn’t even realize I was going stir crazy until you suggested dinner. But I am Arizona. I’m going a little psycho.” 

“So dinner.”

“And sex.”

Arizona leaned up and kissed her. She started to pull away but Callie held her still with nothing more than a hand on her cheek. They didn’t allow it to get too heated. They’d already had one abortive attempt at sex that morning and with the kids up Callie knew they couldn’t afford to try again. So they just stood there pressed up against each other.

Arizona hummed into the embrace. “I—” she caressed Callie’s jaw with her lips “should probably—“ and then used her tongue to lightly paint a trail to Callie’s ear “put on some pants.”

“Yeah,” she sighed. “The kids will wonder if you show up at the butt crack of dawn in nothing but a t-shirt and some very hot underthings.”

This time Arizona moaned and pressed her forehead to Callie’s. “You have no idea how hot they are.”

“I was just in them a few minutes ago.”

“If there weren’t children in the next room—“

Callie’s fingers itched to revisit. Instead she pulled Arizona even closer—squeezing her tight, “Tonight, dinner and ravishment. I’ll even be good about my pain meds so I don’t get sore right in the middle.”

“Tonight,” she whispered.

“Tonight.”

 

####

They called it the surge. Owen had seen it dozens of time in the army and more since. People would rally from disaster only. They’d grow strong and their loved ones would allow themselves a measure of hope.

Then they’d die.

“Do you think it’s the surge,” Cristina asked.

They stood at the nurse’s station outside Addison’s room watching her hold her daughter and talk with her fiancé. She laughed at something and Mark Sloan smiled.

“Hopefully not. They usually don’t wake up from a coma suddenly.”

“Teddy’s put me on her case for now. Says I’m supposed to watch her like a hawk.”

He glanced at her. Cristina was leaning on the counter with her chin resting on her fist. Her eyes were glazed over in boredom with her missing out on what Teddy’s assignment actually meant. “It says a lot.”

“Yeah, says Teddy can’t trust me with surgeries so she sticks me on post-op.”

“Or you’re the only person she trusts to watch out for the hospital’s highest profile patient.”

Cristina considered that, “Eh. I’d prefer the OR.”

“It gives you more time to study for you boards.”

“I have to fly out for those tomorrow. I’ll be back before Shepherd Ford Montgomery Sloan in there even gets cleared for walking.” She scoffed, “Besides I’ve got them in the bag. Go ahead. Test me.”

Owen cheated and rattled off Addison’s precise case history.

Cristina narrowed her eyes, “That’s not even a hard one as evidenced by the living woman making faces at a baby right now.” 

In the other room Addison’s eyes were crossed and she was sticking her tongue out. 

“Try again.”

As always talk of surgery was the quickest route to a playful Cristina. She actually bounced on her toes with excitement over the quiz. She stepped closer, smiling. “Come on,” she begged, “test my giant brain.”

“Do I get anything,” he teased, “if I win?”

“Same thing I get if I win.”

That was how they ended up panting and naked in an on call room thirty minutes later.

“Your method of studying is way better than Mer’s.”

He decided not to tell her he’d learned his method of studying from Callie, who had insisted on it while six month pregnant with their daughter and preparing for her own boards. That particular aspect of the “Torres Method” he’d keep to himself.

 

####

“Um, what’s the Torres Method?”

Callie tripped two steps, only staying upright because of the boys’ stroller. She looked over at a curious Teddy Altman who had appeared out of **nowhere**. “What,” she squeaked.

“The Torres Method.”

Flashes of Callie’s first pregnancy went through her mind. She’d been hugely pregnant and nervous and studying for her boards and Owen had offered to “help” and she’d deemed it a new component of her famed studying method.

“I…”

“Because a couple of the attendings have mentioned you have some super study method?”

“I do…”

“And I was wondering if you’d maybe teach it to Cristina.”

Callie snorted involuntarily. Altman tilted her head.

“Uh…why?”

The other doctor stepped closer, “Because she’s good and I want her to pass her boards.”

“She **is** good and I don’t think me teaching her my method the day before the boards will make her any better.”

Altman sighed, “Right. Well do you maybe have a moment to talk about something else?”

She glanced down at her children. The boys were both quite peaceful in their stroller, content to take in the familiar sights of the hospital. Allegra, on the other hand, was ten feet ahead of them hanging on a supply shelf.

Teddy followed her line of sight and rushed over to collect the girl, who went surprisingly willingly. As Callie was pretty sure she didn’t know Teddy too well she added “teach Allegra about stranger danger” to the list of things she needed to do.

“I was hoping I could bend your ear on the fellowship candidates. I’m still pretty new here and at least the few we have applying from Seattle you should know. So—“

“You’d like tips on who to hire.”

Teddy agreed.

They made their way to the hospital’s office space where Callie’s old office remained. Teddy had changed it since taking it over after Erica. There were a few photos from her time overseas including a prominent one of her, Owen and a few of their friends. Callie recognized that one. Owen had had the same photo in their shared office at home. He’d never told her much about it beyond identifying the people in it as “friends.”

Teddy noticed her attention and smiled sadly, “The old gang.”

“Are they still all over there?”

“One or two.” Some were never coming back, her tone said. Callie wondered who in the photo had died—and wondered why she’d never bothered to ask Owen.

“Okay! So you have applicants.”

Teddy rolled her eyes, “I have them coming out of my a—“ she glanced at Allegra, “file drawer. That’s where they are. Coming out of my filing drawer.”

Callie took a seat in the chair opposite the desk, it was the same one she’d had when it had been her office and it was still incredibly comfortable. Allegra, realizing they were going to be talking about boring stuff, had pulled her DS out of Callie’s purse and was leaning against the stroller playing it and giving both boys a perfect view of her game.

“We got about five minutes before they start fighting over that thing, so do you have a list?”

Teddy took a seat opposite her and scrambled through her drawers, finally producing a legal pad with names scribbled on it.

“Big list.”

“Yeah, I’ve run into a problem because this is technically our first class of fellows, if I don’t include you, and we’ve got applicants from just about every program in the country. A lot, I guess, are assuming we’ll just take anyone.”

There were pages of names. Callie leafed through them in astonishment. “It’s like everyone who’s ever wanted a cardio fellowship ever applied.”

“Basically. I’ve been narrowing thing down but I’m running into problems.”

“Like?”

“Like, despite it being here at Seattle Grace this is still a new program and we can’t quite…compete with the big guys like UCLA and Mayo.”

She stopped flipping through the candidates. “We’re the best hospital in the country.”

“And we still have a budget. With Erica gone it’s you and me Callie and as fantastic as I think we are—“

“We’re not Erica.”

“Which means we need to be able to offer other incentives—incentives our department just doesn’t have the money for.”

She moved back to the top of Teddy’s list. Her top choices were…well they were the best weren’t they? And Cristina was her first one. Offering Cristina the position was a no brainer. She was **that** good.

“This isn’t about choosing someone is it.” It wasn’t a question. Teddy ducked her head. Fiddled with more papers on her desk. “You want to offer it to Yang, but because we don’t have the money or the names of the other programs—“

“She’s the best Callie. She’s a rockstar.”

It stung, because in that statement there was also omission. Callie wasn’t the rockstar. Her pupil was. “So if you’ve already decided on who you want to offer it to why am I here?”

“Because I need your help.”

 

####

“Daddy!”

Few things soothed Owen as much as those words uttered from his daughter’s lips. He swung around, the grin already on his face, and knelt, catching her as she threw herself forward into his arms. Callie, somehow juggling her new crutches and the boys’ stroller, limped after her.

“Hey pumpkin! What are you doing here?”

“We’re eating lunch!”

He raised an eyebrow and glanced at his ex-wife. 

“ **You’re** eating lunch,” she amended, “I was going to stop by and see Addison and enjoying a refreshing change of scenery from my bedroom.”

“You could still join us. She should be there all day. Teddy’s not discharging her anytime soon.”

She frowned at the mention of Teddy, but tried to hide it.

“Uh, have you seen her yet? Teddy, I mean.”

“I have,” she said with a tight smile, “we ran into each other on our way in. Just had a fifteen minute chat about the future of the department.”

“Heavy stuff for someone not even back to work yet.”

“Yeah, well I was doing her job for years while juggling three kids. Telling her which fellowship applicant to hire is a cinch.”

He was a bit taken aback. Owen couldn’t quite picture Teddy just asking a fellow for help—especially a fellow with whom she had a…difficult past—especially a fellow who used to have her job.

“Teddy asked you to choose?”

“Sure, I mean, not really. She just asked me to look over the applicants and give a recommendation. Half the residents in Seattle are applying and I just happen to know every single one of them so she thought I could give it a personal touch.”

In Owen’s arms Allegra sagged, bored by the idea of listening to the conversation. “This is boring,” she said, lacking the subtlety and grace of an adult, “Can we have lunch now?”

Owen looked scandalized, “You want to eat,” he asked in mock horror, “I can’t understand that. Can you Callie?”

“It’s shocking,” she said, easily falling into their old routine, “a child who wants food!”

“And you two, I suppose you want to eat as well?”

Gavin and Angus both nodded.

Sighing dramatically Owen slid his daughter down until her feet touched the floor, “Well I guess that settles **that** debate.”

“Call me when you’re done,” Callie said with a smile.

“Sure.”

Callie turned on her crutches, making her way down the hallway at an impressive clip. 

Owen and the kids then made their way to the cafeteria, where he settled them at a table and went and loaded a tray up with food. When he returned he found Mark Sloan, of all people, being talked at. The plastics surgeon didn’t bother to hide his relief when Owen took his seat between the twins.

“Daddy it’s Mark.”

“I can see that pumpkin.”

“Mark, this is my Daddy.”

Sloan looked decidedly uncomfortable having to talk ‘kid’ with Owen present. “Yeah, I know your dad, kid.”

Allegra ignored him and looked seriously at Owen, “Mark is friends with Arizona. He makes big boobies.”

Mark stared down at his feet—the casual confidence he usually exuded wilting under the frank assessment of his specialty by a four year old. Owen, though, was still trying to decide who’d explained the job to Allegra in quite that fashion.

Or he would have, but Gavin and Angus both giggled at the “big boobies” bit and started chanting the words over and over again.

“You know I do more than boobies,” he contested.

Owen really wanted to palm his own face in frustration at that moment.

“I rebuild skin and throats and I once transplanted the face of a dead guy onto a living guy.”

All three kids went abruptly silent, their little eyes slowly swiveling to look up at him in awe and horror.

“Yeah. A face.”

Sloan’s voice was getting vaguely menacing. Owen called his name and the guy seemed to realize he wasn’t all alone and there was a witness to his attempt to terrorize Owen’s kids.

He at least looked a little abashed, “Right. So I came over here because I thought they were here with Robbins. That’s not the case.”

“It’s not.”

“So I’m just gonna,” he jerked his thumb in the direction of the exit.

“Yeah.”

The kids settled down a little after that, happily digging into their lasagna and the accompanying jello. It never ceased to amaze him how much all three of his kids loved hospital jello. He couldn’t stand it. Callie said if she ever ate it again she’d murder someone. But these three kids hummed with pleasure at each bite.

“So you guys went to your mommy’s meeting with Teddy?”

Angus nodded. “Yeah. We’re helping!”

“You’re helping? With what?”

Allegra intercepted her brother, “It’s a **secret** Daddy. We’re not supposed to tell.”

Gavin agreed hardily, but Angus pouted. “We can too!”

“No,” Allegra countered, “it’s a secret from Daddy!”

“It’s **for** Daddy.” That was Gavin. He patted Owen on the arm. “It’s a surprise.”

“That your mom and Teddy are planning?”

Three eager nods were his only response.

 

####

Callie was an idiot.

There was no other way to define her. On her tombstone it wouldn’t mention her career or her children. It would simply say “Here Lies Calliope Torres. Monumental Idiot.” And there’s be that photo Aria took of her when she was fourteen and came down the hill too fast on her rollerblades, her eyes wide with terror.

She hadn’t **set out** to be an idiot. It had just sort of happened. One day she was a fantastic surgeon recovering from a knee replacement and the insertion of enough metal into her leg to make her a cyborg and the next she was agreeing to help the woman whom her husband had committed emotional infidelity with.

Scratch that.

She was helping **both** of the women. Because there were two. He couldn’t admit a paper cut to Callie but he could unload all his demons on Teddy Altman and Cristina Yang.

The only thing keeping her from feeling miserable about **that** particular slight was Arizona. Because Arizona lit up Callie’s world. Nothing else mattered when that woman smiled at her.

But back to her idiocy. Teddy Altman had asked for her help and she’d actually agreed. Really all she’d ask for was ideas. “You know Yang pretty well, what can we offer to entice her to stay?”

Callie had looked over the current package Teddy had written up. The lab and research budget. “This salary is pretty weak.”

A scant few grand more that Yang’s current salary. Teddy had shrugged, “It’s either the research budget or the salary. The budget I can pull mainly from our federal funding. Finding the money to increase the salary would be…problematic.”

“Unless someone took a pay cut.”

Altman agreed, “Sure. But who’s going to take a pay cut just so we can keep a fellow?”

How about an idiot who wanted to see her hospital thrive and her ex-husband happy? Would that be the person who would take a pay cut?

Yes. Yes it would.

The suggestion had sort of just fallen out of her mouth.

She could pull it off. Owen paid child support and her salary wouldn’t be **that** awful afterwards. Besides when she finished her fellowship she’d have the open attending position which paid nicely. And if things did actually get tight—which wasn’t outside the realm of possibilities when her hospital and rehab bills came due—she could dip into her trust. Currently she had her monthly distributions going into a second trust for the kids’ schooling, but she could talk to her trust officer, maybe get him to siphon some off and send it to her each month if need be.

The money wasn’t the issue. The willingness to part with it for **Owen** was. 

Bailey came around the corner just as Callie prepared to embark on another round of self-flagellation in her head. “Miranda!”

The sound of her name did the exact opposite of what should have been expected. Bailey stuck her nose in a chart and wheeled around on her heel, high tailing it away from Callie.

“Bailey, don’t make my ass chase after you on crutches,” she grunted.

That gave the other woman pause. She stopped and slowly turned around, the fakest fake smile ever on her face. “Callie,” she said brightly.

“Uh huh. You were trying to run from me.”

“What—I’d never!”

Callie glared.

Bailey smiled back.

Callie continued to glare.

Bailey’s mask cracked, “Well can you blame me? Every time I see you lately it’s some drama—“

“It’s not **every time** I see you.”

It was Bailey’s turn to stare down Callie.

“Okay, but only for, like, the last two months.”

“And that time you made me do your pelvic exam when McArmy knocked you up.”

“Four years ago! And this is unrelated.” That relaxed Bailey. And normally Callie would have unloaded the entirety of her meeting with Altman onto her friend. They would have then commiserated about their bosses and subordinates in low voices. But after Bailey’s whole “drama” thing Callie really wasn’t up to panicking in her friend’s ear.

“Hey,” she said weakly.

Bailey raised an eyebrow, “Really?”

“A friend can’t say hello to another friend that haven’t seen in weeks.”

“Uh huh.”

“Okay, so maybe I’m having a minor panic attack over something stupid I may have done.”

“Is it related to your girlfriend or you ex-husband.”

“One definitely, the other…maybe.” How **would** Arizona react if she knew Callie offered to take a pay cut just so her ex-husband could be happy?

“Then I don’t want to know.”

“Mandy,” she whined.

Bailey had, to Callie’s knowledge, always been very quiet and polite but with a backbone of tempered steel. It had led more than one person they each knew to underestimate the shorter woman. They just assumed that because she was quiet and polite to authority figures that she was a pushover. The name Mandy only supported that assumption. Which was why when she’d come back as a Peds fellow she’d insisted that anyone who dared **call** her Mandy could leap into a fire.

Callie, being her oldest friend at the hospital, and one of exactly three people from their intern year still working there, was something of an exception—primarily because she’d never called Bailey Mandy to begin with. At least at work. When out for drinks…totally different story.

It was a slip up, using that old name, and one that Bailey didn’t appreciate.

“I mean Miranda,” she hastily amended. “Miranda Bailey. The Nazi of the Peds department I hear. Arizona said you made Kepner cry last week.”

“A cold stare from an infant would make that woman cry.”

One could not argue with that statement.

“So you did something stupid,” Bailey prompted.

“A little. I offered to do something to help Owen.”

“He’s the father of your children.”

“Exactly.”

“So what’s the problem?”

The sizable pay cut? The way her girlfriend could interpret things if she was in a jealous mood. The way **Owen** could interpret it. Or his girlfriend.

“There’s the potential…that people might interpret it as me still having feelings for him.” The words came out in a rush.

Bailey was non-plussed, “And do you?”

“Well sure, but platonic. Friend. I mean he’s probably one of the best friends I have. But definitely not romantic. Ever. Ever. Ever again.”

It was funny how Bailey could so bluntly ask a question that it didn’t sound like a question. More a vague way of challenging someone’s intelligence. “So what’s the problem.” 

What was the problem then? She knew it was platonic and if she knew, if she was positive that it was nothing more than trying to help out a friend and keep her kids’ father happy, what was the issue?

“Nothing I guess.”

Bailey nodded sagely. “Glad, I could help.”

“I hate you.”

“Mm hm,” she caught Callie’s arm as two interns raced by, “You going up to see Addison?”

“On my way there now. Have you seen her?”

Bailey shook her head, “That damn fool wants to go waltzing out of this hospital by the end of the week. After being in a coma for more than a **month**.”

She still wanted to go waltzing out when Callie finally got to her room. In fact she was arguing with Altman, who had somehow slipped past Callie and made it there before her.

“She’s your friend right,” she asked, pointing an accusing finger at Addison.

“Depends.”

“Would you tell her to stop trying to flee the building and forcing interns to page me up here?”

“If you and the interns would listen to my **words** then it wouldn’t be a problem would it,” Addison shot back.

She looked good for a woman who’d been at death’s door for a month. Color had returned to her cheeks and something between annoyance and amusement was gleaming in her eyes.

Teddy huffed, “When you complete a fellowship in cardiothoracics call me.”

She left quickly, before Addison could launch into the all too familiar tirade where in she detailed every moment of her extensive training. Callie was always kind of amazed at it. Either Addison finished high school very young or she looked fantastic for a woman past fifty.

Addison grinned, her argument with her doctor out of her mind before Callie could even hobble fully into the room. “Callie! Come. Sit. Tell me everything.”

She did sit, but she raised an eyebrow. “Everything?”

“I’ve had Arizona and Bailey for visitors, and Mark hovering over me acting like I’m going to break. No news from a single one of them, and I’ve been asleep for a **month.** I’m deprived Callie. About the only two things I crave more are a Diet Coke and my daughter.”

“You want the Diet Coke more than your daughter?”

“Or a muffin. Some sort of large cake.”

Callie ruffled through her bag, “I think I have half of a candy bar that’s been in here since before the crash.”

“I will eat it. If you pull it out it will go in my mouth.”

She did find the candy bar, but pushed it further down. “Probably not a good idea to give you a sugar rush you first day awake.”

“Fine, fine. So tell me, what’s up with you. Why is Owen’s ‘friend’ running your department?”

“Because I’m a fellow on crutches and she’s an attending who used to work at Columbia?”

“But Grey really promoted her? That’s kind of a step down from Erica.”

She shrugged, “My guess is no one else wants the job. After four of your big surgical stars crash into the side of a mountain in the plane **you** chartered it tends to make potentials hires wary.”

“Or,” Addison said thoughtfully, “they know it’d be poaching your job.”

“I’m a fellow.”

“You’re an attending. Grey just demoted you so she could bring Hahn on. You should ask for your job back.”

“That’s—“

“ **You’re** the prestigious one Callie. That iron lung thing? That’s huge. Altman’s stem cell junk can’t compare.”

“I’m not going to ask for my old job back. I can’t do that to Teddy.”

“Oh your friends now? With the woman who moved across the country as soon as she heard you and Owen split?”

“That was something I suspected because I was annoyed. I don’t have any…”

Addison glared.

“She makes him happy.” Teddy made him **really** happy. Around her he seemed almost…complete. She could see glimmers of the infuriating and wonder man she’d met one blistery winter night blowing into a pen in another man’s neck. Teddy did that. She supported his relationship with Cristina even though she clearly pined for him. She was helping him look for a **house** and willing to ask Callie’s help just to keep Cristina on and keep Owen happy.

She wasn’t going to hurt someone that good for a job.

She couldn’t.

Addison’s cool hand wrapped around her wrist. “Callie.” She took a fortifying breath. Looked up. “Fuck Owen.”

Well…Addison was clearly on another page.

“Seriously. I know he’s your ex-husband and I get that you have three children with him, but fuck him. You have to do what’s right for **you** and right for you is getting your job back and showing this whole damn country what an amazing surgeon you are.” 

“Arizona and I are back together.”

“You’re changing the subject.”

“She says she wants a relationship.”

“You’re changing the subject to the only person that irritates me more than Owen at this very second.”

“Addison.” She got that Addison was being friendly and pretending to hate anyone who’d ever hurt Callie because that’s what a friend like Addison did. But it didn’t mean she wanted to or had to put up with it.

The other woman got the message. Ducking her head in apology. “Okay. So you and Robbins? I kind of get it. You two were practically joined at the hips in the woods.”

“Were you even conscious?”

“Webber kept talking about it to cut the incredibly awkward tension. I cannot **believe** you two left me alone in a hunk of fuselage with those two for a day. Did you know she apparently gets chatty when things get awkward? You’d think, with that mom, she’d be all quiet and reserved, but nope, chatty Cathy. Must be her dad.”

Wow. She remembered a lot.

“Anyways. Arizona’s been really good since…everything. She even helped me come out to my dad.”

She lurched forward, “You came out to your dad? How’d he take it?”

“Not well. But then…Arizona talked to him. Now I think he’s a step away from planning our wedding.” Addison watched her dreamily, and Callie realized she was actually smiling. Her cheeks ached from it. “Really, she’s been amazing.”

Because she and Addison had similar upbringings she saw it. They were rich girls who went to private schools and were surrounded by the meanest and most conniving people imaginable. No one showed their real emotions. They kept everything in check—making her and Addison anomalies. But when necessary she knew Addison could reign it in. After all she’d had nearly a decade long affair with Mark Sloan. She could lie and hide her emotions better than most psychopaths.

But Callie saw it. The little frown. Just at the corner of Addison’s mouth.

“What?”

Addison blinked. “Sorry.”

“You frowned.”

“Did I?”

She tilted her head.

“Okay. Sorry. It’s just…”

Callie waited.

“Arizona did this before didn’t she? When things got to so bad with Owen she was there.”

Some part of Callie wanted to overreact. Get offended. She wanted to hotly defend her girlfriend and shame Addison every which way from Sunday. But she didn’t. She couldn’t.

Because she’d been thinking the same thing. Been wary of the same habits.

Arizona herself had said it more than once. Wryly. With her sleeves rolled up and her hair in her eyes. She’d looked at Callie and said, “I’ve got a bit of a white knight complex.” Like it was a joke.

But it wasn’t was it? Arizona **did** have a white knight complex. When Callie was at her worst Arizona was there and she was amazing. She picked Callie up and dusted her off and held her tight. She protected her, from her dad, Owen, even the gossip of the hospital. 

But last time…when things got calm. When reality weighed in and it wasn’t just high stake drama and emotional rescues.

Arizona bailed.

She acted like it was different this time. She didn’t just interact with Allegra and the twins because they were **there** she seemed to actually **like** them. She wanted to take Allegra on a bike ride! 

But she’d bailed.

And she’d bailed on Amelia too. Abandoning her for Callie when she was spiraling out of control.

It was like saving someone and making them feel special was easy. But a real relationship was hard.

She didn’t want to lose Arizona. She loved her. Felt something for her that went beyond reason. But she didn’t have Arizona either. She probably never could. Not the Arizona she needed.

“She’s amazing,” she finally said—breaking a silence she didn’t know had fallen. “I don’t know how long it’s going to last—if it can last, but she’s amazing.”

Addison leaned back against her pillow. She looked straight ahead and her eyes narrowed in contemplation. “I spent a long time with Derek. Spent a long time telling myself I could be with him because there was this tiny little sliver of love. But Callie, living your life with only one foot in a relationship isn’t the way. You either jump in head first or you get the hell out.”

She scoffed, “Isn’t that a little reckless?”

“There isn’t any other way to be with love Callie. Love **is** reckless. It’s painful and awful and wonderful and when you’re in it nothing else matters. Nothing. Not parents or ex-husbands or even your kids. Love is putting yourself first. If you really love her then you have to tear the world down to be with her.”

“But if she doesn’t love me?” Why did her own voice suddenly sound so small?

Addison’s cool hands were wrapped around her own again, her pale eyes inches from Callie’s. “You’re like a little kid on the shore toeing the waters Callie. At some point you either have to jump in or get off the beach.”

 

####

Squishy squirmy babies could be the cutest thing in the world. When they weren’t sick or spewing things from orifices Arizona kind of just wanted to snuggle up to them forever.

As a pediatric surgeon she only got the sick ones though. So time with her goddaughter was magic. Pure magic. Like sex with Callie. Or Allegra’s smile. Or the twin’s giggles.

She probably shouldn’t have compared happy children to sex. Maybe like…like Callie’s laughter that morning. Snuggling her goddaughter was like Callie’s laughter that morning. Definitely. Much more appropriate.

And she’d once actually been opposed to dealing with children outside of the hospital. How could she have been so blind?

“Look, I know my daughter is perfect and a ray of sunshine but that smile you’ve got on your face is getting a little blinding Robbins.”

She didn’t bother looking up. Abigail chubby hand smacked her in the face. “Shut up Mark,” she said cheerfully.

“Only when you hand over the baby.”

“I’m thinking I might steal her instead.”

“What happened to Arizona ‘no baby heads shall pass this cervix’ Robbins?”

“Holding adorable babies is **very** different from giving birth.”

“Having been the only person in the room to both cuddle babies and push them out of a tiny hole I’m gonna agree with Robbins,” Addison said from the bed. “Now give me my baby before I strangle someone with an IV.”

Arizona had been chatting with Addison and catching her up on even **more** work when Mark had arrived with Abigail. She’d somehow wound up ferrying the baby from her carrier to the bed, but had been waylaid by adorableness and the day’s infectious joy.

She blamed Callie. Her smile could usually power a city and that morning it could have powered half the globe. It had stuck with Arizona all day and then just sort of glued her to her god daughter.

Who she’d never even **thought of** as her goddaughter until that moment. But she was. A little baby with fair hair and blue eyes was her goddaughter. Hers. For real. If they died she’d probably have to be her mom and it’d turn into a romantic comedy starring her and Sandra Bullock. In a bra. And lacy bikini briefs.

Mark nudged her with his hip, “Stop day dreaming about women in lacy bikini briefs while you hold my daughter.”

Creepy mind reader.

She cooed one last time at that angelic face and then handed her over to her mother, who looked just as angelic as she pulled her daughter close.

Arizona really wished she’d had a camera. She could have pulled out her phone but Mark was already going full paparazzi with his—grabbing grainy photo after grainy photo of a moment that deserved, like, a three thousand dollar camera with a two thousand dollar lens.

“Mark,” Addison said, not looking up from their daughter, “I’m not wearing makeup. If you take one more photo I’m gonna shove this IV stand up your—“

“Okay! Phone going in pocket.”

Arizona frowned, “You’re very hung up on the IV thing today aren’t you?”

“A little. What are you doing here anyways? I thought you and Callie had a date.”

“She told you about our date?”

Mark flung himself into the chair next to Addison’s bed and pulled an apple out of his labcoat pocket. He took an obnoxiously loud bite, “I told her.”

“Why?”

“She wanted gossip!”

“I **needed** gossip. Your girlfriend came in, spent five minutes talking about you two and then an hour telling me about this lawsuit and the love life of her ex-husband.”

Owen’s love life really wasn’t **that** fascinating. Sure there was his thing for Cristina, which was equal parts odd and sweet, and yeah he also had his whole platonic flirtation thing with Altman, but that was hardly something to spend forever discussing with Addison.

“Oh,” she said, trying not to let the disappointment show.

“They were five very informative minutes?” Addison was trying to make it better. “I really think she was just trying to respect your privacy.”

Well that was much better—and it made sense. “Oh! Wait. So Mark, you couldn’t?”

He shrugged and took another bite. “Sometimes I get chatty.”

She rolled her eyes. “And with that I should actually get going. Carlos was dropping Callie off—“ Mark opened his mouth to say something annoying, “And I’m getting lucky.”

She waved goodbye. 

Behind her Mark mumbled something. But all she heard was Addison’s curt, “I just came out of a coma. You’re **not** getting lucky Mark.”

 

####

“Is she gone?”

Mark was busy being annoyed about the promise of no sex. Why **couldn’t** they have sex Addison was awake? He was awake. The room had a door. They couldn’t probably knock one out in five minutes flat.

“Huh?”

“Robbins? Is she gone?”

“Unless she’s being weird and hanging out in the hallway.” They both listened. “Robbins? You there?” Nothing.

Addison sagged. “Good.” 

Was **she** good? She looked better that she had. She had color again and she was, naturally, awake. That was better. But she seemed “on” a lot. Like she was putting up a front for all the people making pilgrimage to her bedside. Even with Derek and Amelia! She’d smiled and laughed and acted like everything was better. That everything that had happened between them all was better.

But as soon as they were gone she’d sag against the pillows.

He kept thinking of the surge. The way people got miraculously better and started giving big life affirming speeches before circling the drain to oblivion.

She’d almost done it with Amelia. Passionately pleaded with her to make it work with Lexie. To bury her demons and be there for her, like Addison would always try to be there for Amelia.

And Mark hadn’t hung around when Derek had stopped by, but again she’d seemed so…earnest.

“Addison?” She looked up from Abigail. Damn it. She was exhausted. “When Torres was by and talked about Robbins and Hunt…you didn’t give her some big speech on love or anything did you?”

“Why?”

She had.

She looked down and put her finger in Abigail’s tiny hand. It clamped around it automatically. Babies did that. They blind grabbed whatever was put before them. Not like adults, who picked and chose and agonized for so long they nearly lost everything.

“It’s not the surge,” she said quietly.

Mark pushed himself out of the chair and lay on the bed. He pulled her into his arms, mindful of all her wires and their daughter. She tucked her head under his chin and sank into his warmth.

“It can’t be,” she whispered against his chest.

It couldn’t be.

 

####

Callie didn’t get out to eat nearly enough. She hadn’t since moving to Seattle. First it was the demands of being an intern and resident. Then there’d been her tenure as chief residency and, oh yeah, being pregnant and married to an Army doctor over seas. Then he’d come back and two more amazing kids had shown up and it all that time she’d been stuck on food from the hospital cafeteria, food she had time to make and very, very sporadic visits to restaurants near her home.

Arizona had taken the reigns on this date and she’d told Callie to dress nicely but not too fancy and met her outside the hospital dressed just as she’d suggested. Arizona was in jeans and a delicious black wool coat with a popped collar and knee high boots that clung to her calves like a dream—a naked one Callie had in her head. Callie had had issues though. Because a brace that went up to her crotch and sexy were mutually exclusive.

She’d settled on the same kind of thing she’d worn to the hospital earlier, a nice dress. It was boxier then she preferred but it also didn’t cling to her brace in an unsexy fashion.

And flats.

She’d been stuck in flats. Unsexy, dumpy, super comfortable flats.

Arizona hadn’t even notice. She’d smiled and leaned up to kiss Callie on the mouth right there in front of the hospital and Callie’s dad. “You look gorgeous,” she’d said softly.

Who cared if the flats were dumpy? Arizona said she was gorgeous.

They’d headed north of the hospital to a place just far enough away that they’d taken Mark’s car. When they were finally seated at their cozy little table Callie had opened her menu and raised her eyebrow at the restaurant’s name. “How To Cook A Wolf?”

Arizona looked up, her eyes almost green in the candlelight, “I’m pretty sure it isn’t actually on the menu. Just lots of pasta and wine.”

“Uh…”

Her eyes widened in realization, “And you can’t have wine because your on pain meds. Great. Good job me.”

Callie reached across to snatch Arizona’s hand, “Hey. It’s okay. I’m sure I can have a sip, and the sparkling water is probably **really** amazing.”

“We can go somewhere else—“

“You and super amazing pasta? Arizona I think I’m fine here.”

She looked so surprised at the idea that Callie would be okay with just being out with her at a restaurant. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

They hadn’t actually gone to a restaurant before. They’d eaten out at parks a few times and shared more meals than she could count at the hospital, but all their official dates had been at Arizona’s.

“What are you thinking about?”

“Do you realize this is our first actual date at a restaurant?”

Arizona blinked. “That’s—Wow.”

“Yeah. Kind of amazing we never made it out of your apartment until now.”

Though not really. That had all been Callie—too terrified to be seen out in public with her girlfriend. To scared to be…out. But when Arizona had told her they were going to dinner Callie hadn’t even blinked.

She was so busy trying not to think about Arizona and how genuine the changes she exhibited were that Callie had missed the changes in herself. She squeezed Arizona’s hand, “I’m glad we’re here.”

“Me too.”

It wasn’t just being in a restaurant openly holding her girlfriend’s hand. It was being alive. It was the series of choices they’d both made to bring them to that little table. All the good and the bad decisions that had led them to finally sitting across from one another at a restaurant about to order a big dinner and just…enjoy each other.

No kids. No work. No fear.

She was smiling again. She knew it because her cheeks hurt.

But Arizona was smiling back—her grin radiant even in the low light.

Callie may have had a lot of regrets, but not if it meant losing the euphoria of just…being there.

Even the waitress’s arrival couldn’t dim it. They didn’t let go of one another as they chatted with her about the dishes and Arizona selected a glass of wine to go with her dinner.

“You almost sound knowledgable about that wine,” she teased.

Arizona shrugged, “I remember just enough to make me sound smart at restaurants.”

“Was it from a class or…” and ex.

“My brother’s wife actually. She was a…she was a sommelier.”

That enormous grin Callie was positive mirrored her own became delicate in a moment. It had every time Arizona mentioned her brother—which was enough times Callie could count it on one hand. It was a sensitive topic. A heavy topic.

But she forged ahead anyway, “I didn’t know he was married.”

“We grew up together. Her and me and Tim and Nick, her brother. She was a couple of years older than us, but,” she smiled, “as soon as Tim was out of West Point he was proposing and making it pretty clear he wouldn’t take no for an answer.”

“So she said yes?”

“She did.”

“Do you see her now?” It seemed odd that she never mentioned her. There weren’t even photos of her in her apartment. Or the guy she’d mentioned, Nick.

Maybe not so odd when her gaze turned distant, “No.” Her voice was too fragile now. Her eyes were dry but her voice…it was a breath away from tears. “She and I handled his death very differently. We haven’t talked much since.” 

She wanted to ask how long it had been. Wanted to pry and pry until Arizona gave up every secret. Until Callie knew and understood her better than herself.

But it was supposed to be a romantic and happy evening and that didn’t work if she was making her talk about her dead brother and his wife.

A change was needed, desperately. “My house will be Daddy free in a month.”

That was the ticket. Arizona’s eyes snapped to Callie’s in surprise. “What? But his hotel—“

“He’s got to go back to Miami for a week. Then he’s back here for another two months and then, finally, **hopefully** I will no longer be living with my dad.”

“A whole week?”

“Yeah. And I’m willing to bet Owen will be closing on his new place by then. Might even want the kids to come stay with him.”

“Owen’s getting a house?”

“Mm hmm. And I’m getting the place to myself.”

“For a whole week.”

“A whole week.” If she could have she would have leaned over the table and kissed that goofy smile off Arizona’s face.

“You shouldn’t say that Callie. Because now I’ve got a whole **month** to plan.”

“That was kind of why I told you,” she said with a wink.

She tugged lightly on Arizona’s hand and she took the hint, quickly stooping over the table for a kiss. “I can probably give you a preview tonight,” she whispered sultrily in her ear before returning to her seat.

“Why are we doing dinner first again,” she croaked.

Her girlfriend laughed, “Because otherwise you were going to go stir crazy being shuffled from bed to bed for over a month.”

“But your bed has a view-“

“Of a wall. Which you can marvel at after dinner.”

Discussion paused when the waitress returned with the wine. It was just a glass so Arizona didn’t examine it like all the wine people on tv, and Callie couldn’t recall her ever being weird about the wine they’d had before in each other’s company.

“So you know wine, but you’re not a snob,” she asked out of the blue.

“Again, I know enough to sound impressive and to tell when a bottle’s been corked. Otherwise, I’m really nothing special.”

Callie plucked up the glass and took a small sip, then handed it back, making sure her fingers grazed Arizona’s. “I’m gonna disagree with you there.”

The blush went straight up to Arizona’s ears.

 

####

Oh Arizona had had too much to drink. She just kept smiling at Callie and feeling like the whole world was built to make her happy and didn’t realize that she kept asking for another glass until the bill came.

And now she was tipsy.

Callie was going to think she had a drinking problem. **She** was going to think she had a drinking problem. And she couldn’t drive, and with Callie’s leg she couldn’t drive either.

So she handed over a big wad of cash and they took a pedicab until she was sober. After a block Arizona regretted the decision. There was something about the back of the bicycle that just made her…nauseous.

Then Callie put her arm over Arizona’s shoulder and pulled her close. She tucked herself into Callie and wrapped her own arm around her waist, her hand drawing lazy circles in the soft fabric of Callie’s navy blue and black dress. 

They spent the rest of their ride in contented peace, snuggled up together in the back of the cab watching their very cute lady driver pedal and barely grunt.

Well, most of the rest of their ride. Three blocks before Arizona’s car Callie turned her head a fraction and kissed Arizona’s cheek. Then her ear. Then her jaw. Then back to her cheek. When Arizona turned to ask what she was doing kissing her in public in the back of a pedicab Callie kissed her on the lips.

And then she kissed Callie back. And someone’s mouth opened and someone’s tongue slipped in and suddenly Callie’s other hand was in Arizona’s coat and her thumb was grazing the underside of Arizona’s bra.

Their driver politely cleared her throat and they hastily exited, Arizona doing a terrible job trying not to blush, but still remembering to help Callie extricate herself from the cab. 

She paid the driver a tip while Callie made her way back to the car. The driver watched Callie walk away then looked up at Arizona with a saucy grin. “Enjoy your night!”

 She turned. Callie had made it to the car and turned so she could lean against it. With the dark leather jacket and the dress on…Arizona’s mouth watered. Callie grinned as she approached.

“You’re looking—“

“Predatory,” she murmured before pulling Callie into a searing kiss. She didn’t care that it was night and a little chilly or that the sky was overcast and something between rain and fog was falling on them. She didn’t care who saw. She didn’t care about anything but that kiss. Callie’s lips moved against hers. Her teeth grazed Arizona’s tongue. Her arm circled Arizona’s waist and pulled her back until they both leaned against the car supported only by Callie’s good leg.

“Your leg,” she whispered before Callie’s mouth was on hers again.

Callie blindly reached back, and yanked open the front door, then slid into the seat and pulled Arizona with her. There wasn’t room to maneuver or even lie down. Callie didn’t care. She tugged Arizona’s shirt up far enough to sneak her hand in and run it over her back.

She broke away, “We need…my place.”

Callie surged forward again and the kiss only ended when a cop car blooped at them and flashed its lights. Callie laughed and Arizona buried her head in the crook of Callie’s neck.

“We just got buzzed by a cop for making out.”

Callie’s hand ran through her hair. She dropped a kiss on Arizona’s ear. “We did.”

“That happens when you’re seventeen. Not twenty years later.”

“Didn’t I hear from somewhere that you were some kind of woman version of Mark Sloan until a few months ago?”

She’d heard that? Really? All those years of carefully cultivating her secret and Callie knew?

“I mean, yeah, but behind close doors. Because as hot as doing it with you in a car is I’m not an exhibitionist.”

Callie continued to be amused. “Come Lotharia. Take me back to your place and ravish me behind closed doors.”

By the time they made it back to Arizona’s apartment and all the way upstairs Callie was dragging even her good leg and Arizona was yawning. She groaned when she saw the clock. “It’s 11:30?!”

Callie yawned too. “We have been up since five.”

“Stupid Addison,” she grumbled.

Her girlfriend leaned against the back of the couch and pulled her close. “So my thought is we can have sleepy ravishment now or we can go to bed and have hot, hot ravishment in the morning.”

She raised an eyebrow.

“Then you could maybe get an urgent stomach bug.”

“The residents leave for their boards tomorrow though. That’d leave Bailey in charge.”

“You’d really give up spending a naughty day in bed with me so you can watch Bailey fix baby bowels?”

“Point made and taken.”

They moved into Arizona’s bedroom and she pulled out a spare shirt for Callie. It was just big enough to not be **too** tawdry if they had to run out because of a fire in the middle of the night.

“No pants?”

If it were up to Arizona Callie would never wear pants again. But, “I don’t think I have anything that’ll fit over the brace.”

Callie looked down a the thing with a grimace, “Right. You know I can’t wait until this thing is off?”

“Aren’t you in it for a while?”

“Yeah, but I’m still counting down. Like the kids with Christmas. Allegra asked if she could have a year long Advent calendar.”

Arizona snorted. 

They brushed their teeth and then curled up in bed. Arizona naturally moved to lay her head on Callie’s shoulder and Callie wrapped her around Arizona. It was peaceful.

Cozy.

But in the darkness Callie still spoke, “I’m sorry I pried earlier.”

Arizona had to work to figure out what the heck she was talking about.

“I know you don’t like talking about before.”

BDT. Before Dead Tim. It was cruel and easy and the only way she thought of that time. But in bed with Callie the ache wasn’t quite so bad.

“It’s gotten easier.”

Callie gave her a squeeze.

Silence drifted into place.

 

####

There were few nicer ways to wake up then with a hot and familiar mouth trailing kisses down her bare stomach. Callie’s toes actually **curled** when Arizona moved back up her body and pushed her borrowed sleep shirt up.

Her blond hair was like a curtain and Callie parted it with both hands, twining it through her fingers and pulling Arizona into a kiss. “You got started early,” she said against her pliable lips.

“I saw naked skin. I can’t be held liable.”

“Hm.” She flipped Arizona, surprising both of them. Her leg only barely protested it and normally that would have been enough. The ache would have taken all the edge off her desire. But Arizona was under her now with flushed cheeks and lips that needed bruising and wearing only a barely there shirt and black panties. “I don’t know if I can be held liable either.”

Arizona watched her, equally curious and clearly aroused, “That a fact?”

“If you’ll remember,” her hand snaked up under Arizona’s shirt to palm her breast, “you made me feel pretty amazing a few days ago.”

She gasped. “I did.”

Callie carefully worked one nipple to a peak, watching the sensations play across Arizona’s face, “And I haven’t gotten to say thank you.” She pinched the turgid flesh.

Arizona groaned and her whole body involuntarily rose up into the touch.

“Pillow princess right?”

Her eyes fluttered open in confusion. “What?”

“If I didn’t say thank you?” She bent down and nipped at Arizona’s lips. They **really** needed to be bruised.

Her eyes fluttered close again. “Only if it’s…a habit.”

Callie didn’t like comparing lovers. She never had. It seemed just…skeevy. She **did** because it was natural, but not usually when actually slowly driving a lover into a frenzy—which she was definitely doing.

But there was something about how responsive Arizona was. And she wondered if it was because Arizona really cared or if it was a woman thing. She hated that—always wondering if it was just being with this woman she loved or being with a woman in general.

Some tiny, tiny part of her actually regretted the fact that Arizona was her first woman, because if she hadn’t been. If she’d banged one out with the coffee cart girl or…Hahn or something then she’d really **know**. It wouldn’t be this curiosity that struck her at inopportune moments like this one.

She tried to stay on track by pushing Arizona’s shirt up and taking the nipple she hadn’t attended to yet into her mouth. Arizona gasped and her hand blindly grasped the back of Callie’s head forcing her to stay right where she was.

It was always so **different** with Arizona. So new. The way her nipple pebbled in Callie’s mouth and the way her scent—their scents—filled the room. There was nothing hard and foreign pressed against her belly, just slick wetness virtually identical to her own.

“Touch me,” Arizona gulped. “I need—“

Callie wished she’d had the strength or leverage to thrust down against Arizona then. Her legs were splayed open and her center was pressed firmly against Callie. Just one thrust. That was all she needed. One moment pushing down and watching Arizona’s mouth fall open wantonly. She could picture it perfectly in her head.

“Just touch,” Arizona begged.

Her hand free hand moved down her body, disappearing into her panties to rub her clit herself. Callie slapped her hand. 

“I thought that was my job.”

“You’re too slow.” Her eyes were closed in ecstasy.

So Callie rolled off of her.

“Hey!”

She stroked Arizona’s upper thigh. “I don’t mind just watching. You can even do me afterwards.” Normally. But she said it just playfully enough to let her girlfriend know she really didn’t want to watch.

“I thought you didn’t want to be a pillow princess?”

She moved onto her back. “I don’t. I want you to take off those panties and get over here.” Her voice was so low she nearly turned herself on. And it worked too. Arizona shuffled out of her panties and whipped her shirt all the way off then carefully straddled Callie.

“Your leg—“

“Is fine. Now don’t distract me.”

Arizona raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

Grays and pinks filtered in through the windows in the living room and placed her half in shadows. Except for there were edges of light glanced across her skin. In the early morning like Arizona glowed. She was like Roman marble, her every detail highlighted by that blissful morning light. Her rosy nipples and the swell of her belly and the cord of tendons between shoulders and neck.

Callie ran her hand reverently along the planes of her body. The pads of her fingers found every mole and every scar. Imperfections to most. But they humanized her. Made what was so unreal to Callie almost fathomable.

Arizona was hers. For now. For that early morning Arizona was hers and hers alone. She dug her fingers into Arizona’s thigh and then spread her open with her other hand. But she watched her face. Watched how her she looked towards the ceiling and her throat bobbed.

Hers.

She pulled her fingers away and pressed them against Arizona’s lips. “Taste.”

And she did. She stared down at Callie with absolute trust and slowly took both wet digits into her mouth.

She trailed her fingers back down again. “You set the pace,” she said.

Arizona smiled, settling onto Callie’s fingers with a moan and rolling her hips. It was the morning before all over again, but without pesky panties in the way or the threat of kids coming in and getting an eye full. It was slow. And intimate. Arizona moved against Callie’s hand and guided her fingers, showing her what she loved and letting herself be completely taken over.

When she came with a cry Callie realized she was coming. And that was something that had never happened before. Just watching her girlfriend with her sweaty and mussed hair riding her hand, feeling her move against her, feel the orgasm wrapped around her fingers, it was enough.

This was enough.

Arizona collapsed onto Callie’s chest and made no effort to move beyond a little lifting of her hips so Callie could extricate her hand. She sank it into Arizona’s tangled hair and held her close.

She realized she was panting almost as much as Arizona.

Finally, after long loud moments with only their breath filling the room Arizona pulled Callie’s hand from her hair and kissed the inside of her wrist. “How’s your wrist?”

“Sore.”

“Mm,” she tucked it between them, “it’ll get better.”

“That wasn’t—“

“I meant your wrist stamina will get better. That,” she dropped a kiss on Callie’s chin, “was amazing.”

It was affirming for Callie. That’s what it was. Reaching inside of her and shaking all the cobwebs loose. She’d had all this Owen baggage since they’d first tried to date and one heated early morning had dusted it all away. She felt more whole than she had in months—years.

And there was still that fear: that Arizona would leave. But she couldn’t care about it. Not when Arizona was lying on top of her. Not after that sex. Not after everything that had happened since the crash. She loved Arizona. She loved her. And if she had to fight to keep her, if she had to tear herself apart to keep Arizona there then she’d do it. Damn the fear.

“I’m gonna get a glass of water, you want anything?”

“Same,” Callie panted.

Arizona hopped off of her and dashed into the kitchen completely naked. Was this what it would have been like in another world? Just the two of them in Arizona’s apartment making love and being content. No ex-husbands or dads or children or plane crashes. Just this nest all for them?

She pulled her shirt off and tossed it into the corner then pulled herself up into a sitting position, letting the sheet pool around her thighs. She’d need to take her brace off at some point and clean up. Oo. Maybe she could get Arizona to help her do her stretches and it could all be naked.

Arizona’s phone rang as she returned, and she frowned, but still grabbed it as she flopped back on the bed and put her head in Callie’s lap.

“Who is it?”

“A friend of mine from way back.” Her brow screwed up in intense thought before she hit SEND. But her voice was bright “Nick! Hey. When’d you get back?”

Than change was slow. Sad. Eternal and an instant all at once. Arizona’s voice didn’t crack, but her face went slack as she listened to her friend. She didn’t say much. Yes and no and when. Then she hung up and stared past Callie—straight at the ceiling.

She tried to rub Arizona’s shoulder soothingly. Like she did when the kids were upset. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m…” she frowned. “I’m not sure. But I guess I have to go to Belize and find out.”


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this one took so long. The final chapter won’t! Honest!

There were rocks in the Petrified Forest younger than her examiner. 

He was so old he was just sort of…gray. Gray hair. Gray mustache. Gray suit. Even his skin was sort of gray. His hand trembled as he poured his coffee. “Would you like some,” he asked.

How was someone **that** old administering her boards?

“I’m fine thanks.”

He lifted the saucer up and inhaled the steam coming off his drink, then took a sip. His hand didn’t tremble then. He relished it loudly. Sighing in relief. The other examiner cleared her throat and he set his cup down and clapped his hands together.

“Right. Dr. Yang. Shall we begin?”

 

####

Callie became a distant second in a matter of moments. There was the before, where Arizona was her world, and there was the after, where Arizona’s world was in Central America. 

“That was Nick,” she asked. She remembered the name. Arizona’s brother’s wife’s brother.

“Yeah, he’s staying at some resort, which is weird because it’s Nick. He’s a badass photographer. He hikes glaciers and cuts through jungles for photos. He does **not** vacation at a resort in Belize.” She said this as she moved quickly between her closet and the bed, pulling at clothes and neatly stacking them next to Callie.

Callie knew she ought to get up, find her pants, and probably leave, but she stayed put. “And you’re headed to Belize because—“

“He’s my rock,” she smooshed pair of pants down on top of the pile of clothes, “when Tim died Nick was there for me. He slept on my couch for a month. Tried to put me back together. Without him—“

“He’s important.”

“Yeah. And he wouldn’t just call and invite me if everything was okay.”

So everything wasn’t. Arizona was staring down at the pants, her fingers bunching up in the fabric. Her face still with some internal scrutiny. Callie started to reach across the bed but Arizona was faster. She snapped back to attention and returned to packing.

Callie eased herself out of bed. Her leg wasn’t crazy about the movement, but it didn’t have that awful ache it usually had. It was a delicate dance to move around Arizona. She kept packing and pausing and it made her unpredictable.

Callie finally made it out in the living area and looked for Arizona’s laptop. She eventually found it next to the couch and under a massive amount of research for what looked like facial reconstruction surgery. Probably some shared case with Arizona’s boytoy across the hall.

She propped her leg up on the coffee table and popped open the laptop.

Which promptly asked for a password.

“Arizona what’s your password?”

Arizona stuck her head out, “Why,” she asked, not bothering to hide her irritation.

Callie did her best not to take it personally. Arizona was freaking out and Callie just happened to be the one intruding on a good internalized panic attack.

She motioned at the computer in her lap, “I was going to look up flights for you.”

“Oh, um bubbagump74, all one word.”

Callie raised an eyebrow. Arizona flushed then disappeared back into her room.

“Is your hard drive named Forrest,” she called teasingly.

“No, but I watched that scene with Jenny and the guitar about a dozen times.”

“Any preference on airline?”

"Whatever will get me there fastest."

There wasn't any hesitation on Arizona's part, and while Callie had seen that sort of intense woman of action before, it had always been directed towards her or a patient. It was a funny thing to see that laser focus on something--someone--else. She found herself, maybe shamefully, a little jealous.

Which wasn't the least bit helpful. She ducked her head and popped up a number of tabs, searching each major airline out of Sea-Tac to find the next direct flight to Belize.

And really…Belize? Who went to Belize? With a whole wealth of gorgeous places who actually looked down at the map and said, "Yeah, Belize."

"There's a flight that leaves at four this afternoon," she called out, “you have a layover because apparently no one does a direct from Seattle to Belize, but it's only about two hours."

Arizona popped out again, "Nothing sooner?"

There was one that left in two hours. "Nothing," she lied. Arizona didn't need to know about that one. She'd never make it in time to the gate but insist on trying and just find herself more stressed out. This way she had a little room to just stop. And breathe.

And Callie could get over the idea of sending her girlfriend off on a deathtrap only a month after their last plane trip.

"That's fine I guess," Arizona called. Something smacked against the floor and a number of curses were muttered beneath Arizona's breath.

Callie had to carefully set the laptop down and pull herself up to limp into the other room. She stopped at the door, leaning against it and watching Arizona scramble for something under her bed.

That laser focus was twisting and becoming something else. Frantic and riddled with anxiety. She wasn't shaking. A surgeon never shook. When surgeons got scared or worried they funneled it away from their hands. They got angry or talkative but they could never get fidgety.

"Arizona?"

She was still half under the bed and muttering to herself.

"Arizona, can you…can you come up for a second?"

She pushed herself out from under the bed and then sat against it, looking up at Callie with more irritation. "What?"

Callie was fighting her own nerves…battling with a worry that she hadn't even realized she'd had until she'd bought those tickets for Arizona. And now that worry was growing exponentially with every second. Not towards a full blown panic attack, but towards something queasy feeling.

Something Callie was trying really hard to deal with without letting onto Arizona. She didn't need that right now. She needed a supportive girlfriend.

So she took a calming breath and said anything other than what she wanted to say. "What's the name of the place he's staying? I can map out directions while you keep packing."

See Callie? It wasn't so hard to hide all those nerves.

"Resto Pacifico?"

Resto Pacífico. Okay. There were a lot of reasons a place would be called Peaceful Rest. They might have nice beds. Or be known as some kind of oasis for people with a stressful life. 

Arizona was studying her, gauging her reaction to the name. "My knowledge of Spanish begins and ends with high school Latin. He's not sending me to some sort of sex club or something is he?" She grinned, "Because that would be pretty typical Nick."

There were two ways Callie could take the conversation. She could see the path splitting before her. One avenue she told her it meant "Peaceful Rest" and she'd watch the worry grow tenfold and they'd look up the place and learn it was very likely a hospice and every fear Arizona had would come hurtling out of her and leave her a wreck. 

Callie could see that path clear as day and while the honest woman in her who believed in just ripping off the bandaids felt that was the smart course of action the other part of her recognized that that wasn't what Arizona needed. Arizona needed cheering up. She didn't need to face her friend's mortality alone in her apartment with Callie in Seattle. She needed as many moments as she could to play it like it was all okay. To escape the unavoidable tragedy as long as possible.

So Callie took the other path. "Nope, sex club free." She smiled brightly and thought she saw some little bit of thanks and understanding in Arizona's eyes.

"Thank God for small miracles." 

She stuck her hand out for help up and Callie grabbed the door frame with one hand and pulled her up with the other. Her leg was barely bothered by it, but Arizona still glanced down. "How's it feel?"

"Better every day. I'll be fine Arizona."

She sucked in a loud breath, "Good, because I'm freaking out a little." She looked up through her hair and smiled shakily at Callie. "I don't know what I'm going to find down there."

"I know," she said softly.

"And I've got to **fly** down there to find out."

Callie wordlessly pulled her into a hug. "I know."

"What if I can't do it?"

Sometimes she forgot Arizona was human. Yeah she knew she had faults but she still saw her, for the most part, as some sort of super woman. This perfect creature that came out of nowhere and fell in love with **her** and saved **her**. Hearing her express doubts was…unsettling. 

"You can," she confirmed quietly in Arizona's ear. "And…I…I can go with you if you want." Why did her voice sound so fragile?

Arizona pulled back and looked up at her, "What--Callie can you even fly with that leg?"

"Probably--maybe--I'd have to ask, but if you need me I will. I mean, Arizona you got me through things with Owen and you haven't left my side since the plane crash.” She curled her hand around Arizona’s elbow, the pads of her finger running patterns over Arizona’s arm. “Whatever is happening down in Belize, whatever's going on with your friend I want to be there for you."

Arizona pressed a gentle kiss to the side of Callie’s mouth. “You just worry about getting healed. Let me worry about Nick.”

“That’s not how it works—“

“I know,” she interrupted, “I get how it isn’t how it **should** work. It’s just…it’s how I need it to work right now. Okay?”

Three steps forward. Two steps back. The curse of their relationship. Callie would always find herself seeking a deeper intimacy and Arizona would always dance away with an excuse on her lips.

But right now Callie wasn’t going to fight it. Not when Arizona was hurting and scared. She needed comfort and not a push to be something more.

“Okay.”

Their lips came together again, but with a little more urgency from Arizona. Heat unfurled in Callie.

They could never work through their problems with words alone. That wasn’t Callie’s way and she was starting to suspect it wasn’t Arizona’s either. Because, God, Arizona could form a sonnet with only the tips of her fingers and the wet warmth of her mouth.

So they put aside the conversations. Tucked them into suitcases that could fit under the bed. “You’ve got time before your flight,” she said urgently. 

Arizona’s hands had found their way to Callie’s cheeks. Keeping her standing perfectly still so she could control every kiss. Every moment of affection. 

“Good.”

 

####

A good surgeon, the kind you wanted to work with and learn from, always had a specialty. There were the trauma surgeons who worked under extraordinary pressure. The general surgeons who saw everything. Orthopedics understood structure like an engineer. Pediatrics were reckless and always right. Neurosurgeons were precise. Plastics were artists. Cardio surgeons. Cardio surgeons could lay down a stitch on a beating heart. They had…finesse. They took command of the heart. Controlled it. The most delicate and powerful muscle in the human body and a cardio surgeon was its master.

Cristina had laid her hands on hundreds of hearts and come away better for it. She was damned if she was going to be undone by this doddering old man with his cup of coffee and his milky eyes. 

“That’s a very aggressive approach, Dr. Yang.”

 

####

Her flight into Belize City from DFW was late and she ended up missing the last flight to San Pedro—which was the closest town to Nick’s resort. So she paid for a room in a hotel across from the airport and stared at a dusty popcorn ceiling until late in the night. 

Callie had tried all day to calm her. She’d talked with her and distracted her with sex and been basically perfect, but Arizona kept thinking of the name of the place Nick was staying at. Resto Pacifico. Peaceful Rest. She looked that up. They called themselves a resort and they used lots of pretty language.

But they boasted on site medical staff.

They wouldn’t declare themselves a hospice because that would be too easy, but they were.

Which meant…which meant Nick was dying.

But he couldn’t be dying because if he was sick he would have come to her. He would trust her.

So someone else was sick. Maybe some girl he met and fell in love with and now he needed Arizona’s help to pull him out of a funk.

God she hoped some poor woman was dying.

She **needed** some poor woman to be dying.

Not Nick.

She called Callie’s cell. It was only ten back at home and she hoped she was still up.

“Hello,” a tiny voice whispered.

She had to stop and check that she dialed right. She had. Which meant, “Allegra?”

“Hi Arizona.” Her voice was barely there. Arizona could just see her, tucked beneath the covers of her bed with the phone pressed to her ear.

“What are you doing with your mom’s phone?”

“Looking at pictures.”

Callie’s phone was full of snapshots of family and friends and really cool heart surgeries. “Which ones?”

“The cool ones.”

She was going to be a cutter. Just like her mom. Torres would end up being a dynasty kind of surgeon name, like Grey or Webber. She smiled to herself. “You should be asleep,” she admonished.

“I was, but you called.” Allegra yawned for emphasis.

Arizona laughed. “Uh huh.”

She could hear the rustle of sheets over the phone and she imagined Allegra sitting up in bed and holding the phone closer. “You didn’t say hi today.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry. I had to go on a trip.”

“Where?”

“Belize.”

“Is that in Mexico?”

“Close. You’ve got a good grasp of geography.”

“Mommy says I’m a genius.”

“Well, she’s right. Belize is south of Mexico.”

“Why?”

Kids didn’t have tact or nuance. They had questions and they sought answers. They were absent the obfuscation that colored adults’ language. It was one of a million reasons Arizona loved them. That simple question was loaded though. Shot from Allegra’s mouth like a shotgun shell. Arizona felt tears again. Hot and evil. She swallowed and calmed the waver in her voice. “I have a friend and he’s sick. So he needs me to come and make him better.”

“Like you’ve been making Mommy better?”

The perfect smoothness of Callie’s nipple beneath her tongue that morning. When Callie was still asleep and not quite aroused. Another world where tears were happy or not her own. “No. Not quite.” 

“Did you drive?”

Arizona shifted on her own bed. She pulled one of the pillows down and put it beneath her shoulder. There was a dull ache in it ever since she’d gotten to the airport. Like some phantom pain from the crash.

“I didn’t.” Having to say that to a little girl trying to sleep nearly broke Arizona’s heart. She wasn’t sure why. Not entirely. Allegra’s wasn’t hers to care for or protect. Yet something in the girl’s voice warned her not to tell the truth.

“Did you fly?”

Her voice was so small it was barely there.

“I did. And I’m okay.”

Kids didn’t have tact or nuance but they had **insight** and intelligence that was never to be underestimated. Sometimes they could be so damn precocious it was maddening. They could act like these little adults. Allegra was particularly guilty. She was clever and she knew it. It was easy to forget she was barely four.

The little girl was silent.

“Allegra.”

“When are you coming home?”

Not back. Home. There. To that warm house with its kitchen from the fifties, plumbing from the thirties and that post she chained her bike to that was in desperate need of replacement. 

If she closed her eyes she was already there and Callie was lying on her side with her head resting in her hand and a private smile on her lips. The boys were bouncing on the end of the bed. Allegra was lying flat on Arizona, a little heating pad to ward off the draft.

“Soon I hope.” Her voice cracked and she slammed her eyes shut. Great. She was getting emotional. Her best friend was staying in a hospice and she was miles and miles away from any comfort. And a stupid kid on the phone was making her teary eyed.

“What time is it there?”

“Past midnight.”

“That’s late,” she said sagely.

“It is.”

“You want me to sing you to sleep?”

 

####

“Geeze Yuma I thought you’d never show!”

Nick wrapped her up in a hug before she could get a word out. There was no time to comment on his awful pallor or heavy limp because she was too busy remembering just how good it felt to get a hug from the guy. 

“I had to take a puddle jumper and then ride a golf cart half way across this freakin’ island.”

He laughed and ruffled her hair. “The important thing is you’re here. Now go get your gear. We’ve got a boat to the reef that leaves in a half an hour.”

She frowned.

He just kept grinning and chucked her under the chin. “Come on. You brought it right?”

“My diving gear hasn’t been used since a Republican was in office. Also it’s in the back of a very big closet in Seattle. Nick what is—“

“Okay, then chuck your stuff in my room and we’ll grab you gear on the way.” He clapped his hands, “Chop chop woman!”

Arizona scowled but walked past Nick to the little bungalow he’d rented. It was right on the beach with two big chairs and a hammock on its deck. Inside was a different story. It was just one room, a kitchenette, a little living area and a big bed. And oxygen. 

The big machine sat next to the bed, the tubes resting on top as if in recent use. It was even plugged in.

And there was no other person. Just one dimple in the middle of the bed. No girlfriend or lover Nick was seeing through a trying time. The space was his. The oxygen his. The imminent death she’d been racing to and from. His.

Her bags slid off her shoulder. Slammed into the ground. She couldn’t turn. Couldn’t face him. 

“I’ll explain on our way,” he said. His voice suddenly serious. “But let’s go. Okay?” And back to happy, fun Nick in a flash.

With her back to him she tried to work up her own smile. It failed. She tried again, conjuring images of those three kids and their mother. It was enough. Just barely. 

“You owe me such a big fucking explanation,” she said. She was crying and trying to sound happy all at once and just sounded miserable. But she brushed the tears away and turned and the sad look she saw in his eyes flickered out—replaced by false joy.

“Yeah.”

He extended his hand and she took it. It was a big masculine hand with scars on the knuckles and thick dark hair. It felt just right in hers. As big as they’d both gotten they were kids again and he was reaching out for her. In the distance was Tim and the woman who’d be his wife and there she was, with the man who was her husband.

The only man she’d ever marry.

 

####

He’d lied and didn’t explain on the ride to the boat. Or in the shop where Arizona bought a wet suit and rented diving gear. They loaded up the boat he’d rented and made small talk. Engaging in old inside jokes and talking about books they’d read.

Arizona went below deck and pulled on her wetsuit. When she came back up Nick was in his own suit and was standing at the controls with his eyes focused on the horizon. The spray caught in his hair and she saw a speckle of gray.

They’d gotten old at some point. Grown up from those kids who used to bicycle around base together. Tim was gone and Nick’s sister couldn’t talk to them and Arizona had lines on her face and Nick had gray in his hair. She reached out and ran her hand through it. He grinned and pulled her close in a one armed hug.

“I missed you Phoenix.”

She hugged him back. He smelled like neoprene and salt water.

“Are we gonna talk about it?”

“In a bit. Why don’t you go check the gear, we’re almost to the reef.”

Again Arizona didn’t ask. Really there was no reason to. And at the moment…at the moment it was like Schrodinger’s cat. He was existing in a quantum superposition and both perfectly healthy and dying at once. He was all things and thus Arizona had to do nothing. She couldn’t mourn him because he was alive. She couldn’t be angry because he was dying. She could only continue on around him existing in reality while he existed just out of it in his quantum state.

“You’re thinking hard science stuff aren’t you,” he joked from the wheel.

“What? No.”

“Uh huh. You get that smart woman look. Like you’re about to cure kid cancer or something.”

“I was thinking about you,” she countered.

He raised his eyebrow.

“Okay, I was trying to figure it all out using quantum physics because you won’t actually talk to me Nick. You’re making me using science I haven’t touched since **college**.” 

He laughed, “Of course. You know most people would be furious with me, not trying to use physics to avoid the issue.”

“You think I’m okay with this,” she dropped the regulator she’d been examining onto the deck of the boat, “You’re in hospice and I’m pretty sure you called me down here to watch you die.” Her words were sharp as a number ten.

And just like that he fell out of the superposition. He looked away from her with bright tears in his eyes. And Nick didn’t cry. He was a machine. **They** were machines. They kept strong after Tim and helped her family and he was her support and he **didn’t cry**.

“I didn’t know how to tell you.”

“Please,” she whispered. He’d brought the boat to a full stop and there was just the sound of waves brushing against the side of the boat. But she whispered anyways—as if to make the moment more…profound. “Just say it.”

“I have a tumor eroding my heart.” Salt water. “It’s inoperable.” How fitting they were on salt water. “I’m dying.” That’s all tears were.

 

####

Meredith was waiting for her after their first round. She offered a bottle of orange juice that Cristina took gratefully.

“I think my examiner wants my mom’s autograph.”

“I think my guy’s so old he’ll croak before we finish.”

“But it’s easy right?”

Right now her boards were the **only** easy thing in her life.

“A breeze.”

 

####

Owen waved his hand over the window. “Do you think there’s a draft?”

Teddy was standing at the door with her arms crossed. She kept bouncing her hip against the long purse she was wearing and picking at her leather jacket. “I think that’s why you pay an inspector to come in and check.”

He held his hand closer and then put his ear near the glass, “I can definitely hear a whistle.”

She looked up at the ceiling and the exposed beams that supported it, “This house is older than either one of us, I think a few whistles and drafts are to be expected.”

“Maybe, but I can get the price lowered if that’s the case.”

“And what,” she raised an eyebrow, “fix it yourself?”

Owen ignored her. 

“Because I remember your attempts at being a handy man.” She ticked them off with her fingers, “My ac unit on base, that door to officer’s mess, that poor woman’s house.”

“That last one—“

“Cost the US Army thousands. The Colonel forbid you from using a hammer for six months.”

He jammed one hand into his pocket and gestured with the other, “An exaggeration.”

“Your mother keeps her tools under lock and key Owen.”

“For the kids.”

Her look said it all. Not for the kids. For him. Ever since he was eight and tried to build a dog house and sent a hammer through the back porch door. It was kind of ridiculous. The Army trusted him with guns and the medical community trusted him with scalpels but his mother and his best friend couldn’t trust him with a hammer and nails.

Teddy came closer and waved her hand over the same spot. “Yeah, that’s a draft.” She suddenly slapped him on the shoulder, “Oo! You should ask Shepherd to help do the fixes. Isn’t he being all rugged and building a house in the woods?”

She’d hit him hard enough that Owen had to rub at the spot. “I’m pretty sure he pays a contractor to do the actual rugged stuff. Couldn’t I just use foam to fix this?”

“Maybe? My knowledge of repairs begins and ends with the human chest cavity.”

A cleared throat reminded them that the realtor was walking through the house with them. She looked wan after Teddy’s comment. “So, what do you think,” she squeaked out, “it’s nice right?”

It was really nice. They’d looked at cool lofts most of the morning and then come out to Callie’s neighborhood that afternoon. The current place was a seventy-year old Craftsman bungalow only two blocks from his ex’s home. When the kids got older they could walk there on their own. 

The biggest downside was its proximity to the hospital. Cristina’s current place was an easy drive, this would tack another fifteen minutes onto her commute, if she moved in. And that was only if he asked her. Which he wanted to.

He ran a hand through his hair and peered up at the ceiling. It was a gorgeous place. “It’s wonderful,” he finally said.

The realtor grinned, smelling a sale. “Want me to leave you to look at it a little more?”

“That’d be nice.”

She whipped her phone out and scuttled out of the room leaving Owen staring at nothing in particular and Teddy hunched over a floor vent poking it with her finger. “This place has central right? Why does it even **need** floor vents?”

“They’re vintage.”

She eyed him skeptically before rubbing her hands clean on her pants and standing again. “You like this place don’t you?”

“I could walk to Callie’s.”

“And spend twenty minutes in the car getting to Cristina’s.”

He scowled. She could be so damned prescient sometimes. “That’s not—“

“Come on Owen, she’s half the reason you’re buying this place, or another like it.”

“If I just wanted a place so we wouldn’t have to stay at my mom’s or her frat house I’d rent an apartment. I want a **home** Teddy. A place I can do Thanksgiving and not feel like a waste. A place my kids can feel comfortable in when they’re fifteen and decide Callie’s a nightmare.”

She laughed.

“And I think,” he surveyed the room again, “I think this is the place.”

“What about Cristina?”

There was a window seat in one nook of the room. Owen took a seat and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. ‘What about Cristina,’ was the big question. The one he wrestled with.

His love for her was destructive. He could feel it in every kiss. Being with her was an act of self-flagellation because he knew—he **knew** it couldn’t end well. There was a wariness in Cristina’s every action. A distance when she was around his kids. She was there but she could never fully commit to what they were and Owen couldn’t ask her to. He couldn’t demand she give up a piece of herself to be with him. He’d done that to Callie and she’d done that to him and it had nearly killed them both.

He wouldn’t do it again.

And there were all the things she couldn’t say too. The little details of her life she’d never whisper. And the one big one. Every fifth year at the hospital was obsessed with fellowships and moving on. Cristina said nothing.

He wanted to buy her a house and ask her to move in and she might not even be there. Gone to Minnesota or California. So he had to buy sooner. Had to ask sooner. Had to avoid Teddy’s knowing stare and the look Callie and her girlfriend would share when he told them.

Had to tie Cristina down and show her she didn’t have to change. That they could be together and be themselves and live in this little house. They could be that dream he had in Iraq that grew more distant every day.

“Owen.”

He was stuck. He couldn’t give Cristina up. But he couldn’t bare destroying her by making her stay.

“Owen.”

Buying a house wouldn’t solve the problem threaded through their relationship. But not buying it would allow it all to unravel.

“Owen. Are you—“

He brushed past Teddy, her mouth still open in question, and went straight to the realtor. She put her phone on her shoulder and stared.

He couldn’t change Cristina. But he wasn’t going to let it all dissolve out of fear either.

“Call the sellers. I’d like to make an offer.”

 

####

He stared at Cristina. Like if his limpid eyes gazed at her long enough she’d crack. She knew the trick. Callie liked to do it in the OR. Force her pupils to second guess themselves right out of the correct answer.

So Cristina just stared back. Her lip threatened to curl up into a vicious smile. She resisted.

“Final answer,” she declared. Like she was on a stupid gameshow.

She had to admit he gave good poker face. Her choice wasn’t reflected on his face. He just looked down at his pad and wrote something.

A lesser woman would have been swayed by the action. Cristina wasn’t.

She was hardcore.

 

####

Arizona used to be a little obsessed with the ocean. Years and years and years ago she’d toyed with being a marine biologist. She’d spent all her time in the water. Her skin tanned and her hair bleached in the sun. She’d surf or scuba dive. Whatever she had to do just to get into the water. Her dad had taught her and Tim how to scuba dive. Tim had rejected the hobby, but Arizona spent to whole summers in high school working as an instructor. She was the one that taught Nick. 

It had been years since they’d gone diving together. Sometime after Tim died. Nick still had good form, but Arizona was seasoned enough as a diver and a student of human anatomy to see the scars left by that tumor.

It was on his heart. Slowly prying the muscle apart until one day it wouldn’t be a muscle but just a lump of inert flesh stuck in his chest. But it wasn’t the only tumor. They riddled his body. Lurked beneath the surface much like the reef they were diving on. She couldn’t see it all from above. Little ripples in the water or a pronounced limp. But then she dove in and the reef spread out before her and she noticed all the other hints. The way his whole body seemed to curve to one side—a habit picked up to fight the pain of the tumor consuming his spine. The way one leg didn’t kick as powerfully as the other.

Nick was dying and he had been for a long time.

A spinal tumor like his didn’t just burst out and destroy in a day. It took years to form and spread. It was slow. Methodical. It was **treatable**.

She kicked away from him until the intermittent flash of his camera was little more than a reflection on the waves. She ripped the regulator from her mouth and she screamed. The sea consumed her cries. Water flooded her mouth. Salt splashed against her tongue. But she kept screaming. Until her face hurt and her lungs burned.

It was treatable.

But he was dying.

She hung in the water, unconsciously treading water and letting a deep seated malaise bloom inside of her. It ached. Every joint ached. Every bone. Every nerve. She was trying so hard not to cry that the burn of unshed tears had twisted, becoming something awful and lingering in every fiber of her.

She missed the fury of those first few moments after he’d told her. Anger was so damned easy an emotion to turn to. If she was angry enough she couldn’t feel the hurt. But then she’d slipped into the water where there was only the sound of her own breath in her ears to keep her company and dark thoughts had slithered and wrapped around the anger. Torn it down and left only the grief of what she was losing and what was to come.

Winding her way through the reef she found Nick again. He was shooting some fish skirting across the sea floor but Arizona’s eyes were glued to Nick. Was this really how they were going to spend his last days? Him glued to his camera and a swath of space and silence between them?

Was this really what he’d asked of her? To just come and sit nurse maid for his final moments?

She kicked up, shooting through the water and breaching the surface with a splash. She took in lungfuls of real air, with all of the salt and none of the canned brackishness.

Nick surfaced a minute later. He spit out his regulator, “What’s up,” he asked. Like he didn’t know—or cared.

Her hand slapped against the waves. “Fuck you.”

He frowned, “Arizona.”

“No. No fuck you Nick.”

He moved closer, his fingers brushing against her suit, “Come on,” he pleaded. Like he was asking her to go into a gross bar or help him pick up a girl.

She jerked away, swimming just out of his reach. She stopped before she could go too far. Turned and treaded water. The waves splashed against face, leaching the warmth right out of her. 

“Do you know what I do Nick? For a living do you have **any** idea?”

“Of course—“

“Then why didn’t you call me!” She was grateful for the sea between them because all she wanted to do was surge forward and hold him under the water. Not to kill him, that was an inevitability, but to **hurt** him as much as he’d hurt her.

He said nothing.

“I’m a freakin’ doctor Nick. At the best hospital in the country. I could have saved you.”

“You don’t know—“

“I **could have** ,” she shouted. 

Nick said nothing. So Arizona plunged beneath the waves and made the long exhausting journey back to shore. Alone.

 

####

She just sort of laid on the shore for a while. The sand had been warmed by the sun and was hot against her cheek and it was a pleasant contrast to the water that still lapped at her ankles. Her breath came in little puffs as she tried to remember how to move her arms and legs.

She had, in her anger, perhaps. Maybe. Forgotten how hard it was to swim in open waters from a reef to the shore. And maybe it had been a very long time since she’d swum at all. Bicycling, while amazing for cardio, could prepare her muscle for the strain of the swim while weighed down by diving equipment.

So Arizona lay collapsed on the beach and tried to remember what walking was like. The best part of it was she was too tired to think about other things—other people.

Eventually she released the straps holding the tank to her back and shouldered it off before rolling onto her back to pant some more. High above the sun was shining against a cloudless sky that was the most brilliant shade of blue she’d ever seen. She would have lifted her hand up to provide some shade from it all but she wasn’t sure it would work very well.

Breathlessly she rooted around in the little waterproof pouch she’d worn on her hip. There wasn’t much in it. Just some bananas and water Nick had supplied and her cellphone. She managed to pull one of the bananas out and sort of peel it before nudging it up to her mouth and taking a few bites.

It helped.

At least with the energy deficit.

Unfortunately that got her brain working on something besides limb movement and she started thinking about Nick again.

There was a nearly uncontrollable urge to run from him. To grab her bag and hop a plane straight back to Seattle and wait for a call from some officious person asking where to send the body.

But that wasn’t who she could be anymore. Not after Callie. Not after the plane crash. A Robbins never ran until Arizona came along, and it was up to her to make sure a Robbins never ran again.

She pulled her phone out and hit the first number in Recent Calls. It would be another outrageously expensive call. One she found she didn’t mind paying the cost of.

 

####

Callie hadn’t answered the phone to sexy panting since crank calling went out of style in eighth grade and she would gladly admit that it was much better when she knew the sexy panter carnally and had heard them do just that sort of sexy panting in her ear only a day earlier.

“Hey,” she said with a smile. Her dad looked up from his work in confusion and she waved him off before hobbling out of the room and into Allegra’s empty bedroom for some privacy. “How’s Belize?”

Arizona continued to pant. Finally she swallowed. “I swam too far.”

“Out of shape?”

“And I think I’ve got at least a two mile walk back to town barefoot.”

“What the hell happened?”

Arizona groaned but went silent again. Waves crashing against a distant shoreline were the only thing Callie could hear for a while.

“Arizona?”

She heard her swallow. “So I’m going to be here longer than I thought.” Her voice was iron. Cold, hard and brittle when pushed too far. “I got here and things…aren’t good. So I’m going to have to stay longer.”

Callie swallowed her questions. Arizona was like Owen in a lot of ways. Fracturing when pushed too far yet constant when the rest of the world burned. She was breaking now though. It wasn’t just being out of breath. It was the way she danced around the question hanging heavy between them.

“Okay,” Callie said softly. “We all… People will understand. I’ll talk to Ellis first thing tomorrow. She’ll understand. She will.” 

“I have to—“ Her voice finally cracked and she went silent again. If she was crying it was hidden by the sound of the sea.

Callie closed her eyes and leaned against the door. Her head thumping lightly against the wood. She wanted to reach through the phone and pull Arizona close. Tuck her in tightly and hold on for dear life. She’d cup Arizona’s face in her hands and kiss away all the pain. Kiss her until her sobs were only echoes on their breath.

All this time Arizona had been there for her. Through **everything** Arizona had been there for her and now Callie was stuck in Seattle, half a continent away. With fingers itching to comfort with a caress and words too inadequate to console.

Water continued to rush over sand. Callie waited. Arizona said nothing.

“You know living with Owen taught me to be quiet. It’s not my nature but that’s what he always needed. And I spent years reigning in all this—these—just **words** that I had in me. Things I needed to say but I knew I couldn’t because I had this husband with PTSD and he’d fly off the handle if I wasn’t careful. That kind of makes him sound abusive. He wasn’t—choking incidents aside. At least…no, he wasn’t abusive. He was sick and I tried to be his doctor and I kind of sucked at it because it was forcing me to change you know?”

Arizona was still silent.

Callie took a deep breath. “And you don’t Arizona. Even when I was freaking about my bisexuality and taking it out on you you were…you were patient.”

“I was never patient.”

“You were **always** patient. When it counted. When I needed you to be you were. Which allowed me to be myself. You helped me **find** myself again. The woman that’ll go on a five minute word vomit thingy over the phone. You brought her back. And I love you for that.”

She almost lost Arizona’s words over the whisper of sound of the sea and her own breathing—cacophonous in Allegra’s little room. 

“He’s dying. He’s apparently riddled with tumors and one’s eating his heart and he’s dying.”

In her head Callie saw the heart muscle. Saw a dozen different tumors in a whole array of colors. Each one distorted the heart. Some twisted it about until it was unrecognizable. Others invaded, consuming flesh and leaching the life from the muscle. Others were more…aberrations. Small, devastating but—

“Send me the scans.”

“Callie—“

“Send me the scans Arizona. I’ll look at them. I’ll get Altman in on this. Yang. We’ll look at it and we’ll make a plan and we’ll fix it.”

“I can’t ask you to do that.”

“You can’t ask one of the most amazing heart surgeons to ever live, because I totally am, to look at her girlfriend’s best friends scans and try to save him.”

“If you can’t.”

“I can.”

She could.

Couldn’t she?

 

####

Arizona was limping by the time she made it back to the bungalow. Her feet had turned into giant blisters and she was pretty sure her toes would never uncurl again. The oxygen tank was scuffed raw on the bottom after being dragged the last half mile and she was so tired just blinking was enough to fall asleep.

Nick was waiting outside. No book or drink or anything. Just Nick in some shorts and a t-shirt sitting in one of those adirondack chairs bouncing his leg nervously and chewing his nail.

If his mother were alive she’d be furious about that list bit.

Seeing him was enough. Callie’s words were still ringing a song in her ears and seeing him alive and fidgety pushed her forward and swept the cobwebs of fatigue away.

“Shower,” she panted, walking past him before he could speak. “When were you last scans?”

“Two months ago. Are you okay?”

“Shower. You’ll make me some sort of food. Then we’re going to the closest hospital with decent imaging systems and you’re getting every scan under the sun and we’re sending them to my girlfriend the world class heart surgeon and she’s going to save your stupid idiotic life.”

But shower first. Possibly a bath.

 

####

Cristina blinked. Her eyes opened again to an empty room.

Had she just…did she just tell that ancient excuse for medicine to pick a decade and she’s successfully perform a hypothetical surgery in it and save a life?

She looked around. The room was empty. The guy **had** left in a huff with his little notebook tucked under his arm.

Oh man. She definitely had.

She basically told her examiner to hitch a ride back to the ice age.

When she finally made it outside Meredith was slumped over on the curb with a bottle of water forgotten in her hand. She looked up, shellshocked. “That was hell.”

Cristina sat next to her, but it was more of a fall and the pavement thudded painfully against her ass. “I think…I went a little overboard.”


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This thing is done.

Nick was Arizona’s first, last and only boyfriend. They’d kissed once before puberty struck and Arizona had realized that even though boys weren’t **that** different from girls she still liked girls way more. Yet he was still that one guy outside of her brother that she didn’t mind cuddling up to. So they left the door to the beach open so they could listen to the waves and they curled up on Nick’s bed. Wrapping themselves tightly around one another and holding on like it might be the last night they could feel each other’s warmth.

‘She’ll find a way,’ Arizona told herself. If anyone could save Nick it was Callie. She’d mailed off all his scans with a powerful surge of hope and even opted to buy him dinner just because she felt so good.

“This is feeling kind of like a last meal,” he’d joked.

“Your last meal thinking you’re dying,” she’d insisted. They’d toasted each other and drank too much rum and stumbled back to the bungalow, falling onto the bed fully clothed and clutching each other not quite like lovers but not quite like sister and brother either.

“What if—“

“Don’t.”

So he didn’t ask and she didn’t answer and they fell into the restless sleep of the incredibly, incredibly drunk.

 

####

Callie was grateful for an ex-husband she was on good terms with and a father who’d do anything for her because it allowed her to sit in a room at the hospital and do nothing but stare at scans and think. No kids. No concerns. 

She left her phone in her purse in her locker and she kept a pot of coffee on the desk and she stared. 

Scans weren’t a heart. They were shadows of a heart. A man-made machine’s interpretation of a device only God could fully fathom. It was up to her to play God and try. To see muscle and sinew and blood vessels where a machine only gave her light and dark.

Sometimes she closed her eyes and put the heart in front of her. Traced its sorry state with her fingers. Her thumb moved over the tumor, hard and foreign and nestled in muscle turned soft from the onslaught. The whole muscle beat in her hands and she saw the blood pool in chambers that could not move and leak from strains put on it by that invading object.

Other times she’d open the program on the computer in front of her and move from one scenario to another. Her hand was always steady in the scenarios. Perfect and sure with none of the worry of operating on her lover’s best friend. A machine’s hands.

And machines just couldn’t understand the heart.

FAILURE. The words were there on the screen. YOU’RE A FAILURE CALLIOPE TORRES. Because every scenario ended the same way. The heart could not be saved. She could not do the one thing Arizona had asked of her.

Nick would die and it was with Callie’s hands in his chest.

 

####

Cristina passed her boards. 

She shouldn’t have been so surprised by her success. She was the best resident in her class. The most confident surgeon. The most extraordinary. It wasn’t hubris, it was **fact** —one Callie or Teddy would have happily confirmed.

But she’d come so close to failing. They didn’t actually tell her that. There was no presentation of a score. Simply pass or fail. But she knew how close she’d come. She’d seen her testers. Seen their disdain. Seen their irritation. She’d walked a razor’s edge for half that test and cut herself badly in the last moments.

And before Owen that wouldn’t have happened.

Before Owen she was a machine. She was a construct— engineered to be the best. Pesky emotions never picked at her. She wore a thin veneer of humanity—not been suffused with it.

But she couldn’t just blame Owen for what had happened—or what she’d become. As much as she desperately wanted to put it on him and this cosmic pull she felt towards him it had been **her** choice to love him ultimately. There’d been a split in the path and an easy exit and she’d ignored it for ardor and the exquisite pain of their affection.

And it had nearly cost her her boards.

“You don’t know that,” Meredith urged in the dark confines of the basement, where their only company were abandoned beds and dusty brick walls.

“Six months ago that would **not** have happened.”

“And six months ago you wouldn’t have had anyone.”

But that was okay. “Maybe—“

Meredith was not the most expressive person Cristina had ever met. She didn’t get girly or giggle—not since her disastrous engagement. She was like a dense Russian novel. Impenetrable at first glance but fascinating upon closer inspection. It was an endearing trait and it kept Cristina fascinated by her best friend.

But sometimes—sometimes this veil would fall. Everything that Meredith was would disappear into this effigy of stone. No one could break it. No one would try. When it appeared it was best to back away. Give her space. Needling her was pointless—and Cristina liked that too. She was the same way. They went internal when wounded.

And she’d deeply wounded her with nothing but a “maybe.”

Meredith’s face went slack except for the grimace that turned the corners of her mouth down.

“Mer—“

“That’s sad,” she said, “that’s really freakin’ sad Cristina.”

Then she turned on her heel and stalked out of the basement.

Was it sad? Trying to maintain an edge? Was it really **sad** wanting to be the very best? Meredith couldn’t understand—not under her mother’s shadow. She couldn’t possibly see how vital it was to be alone and free of emotional entanglements. She should, but she’d been raised by a Cristina and thought her, and her mother, at the end of the day, were unnatural. Frigid bitches with no concept of humanity.

“If things were different you’d feel the same way,” she shouted after her.

And Meredith was back again, racing across the distance with her finger directed almost vulgarly at Cristina. “No, I wouldn’t. Because I don’t think loneliness is worth it.”

“But your mother—“

“Was a monster when I was a kid. A monster. And my dad came and saved her and put us all together. Without him I’d be a shell and she’d be some sad old bitch. People would know her and she’d be famous, but she’d still be sad, depressed and completely alone and if you think that’s worth a few awards then **you’re** sad.”

“I’m losing—“

“You’ve got friends now. You’ve got a guy who loves you Cristina. You’ve got this whole family now—“

“And I don’t want it! Don’t you see that Mer? I don’t want to be a mom or a stepmom or anything. I don’t want to have to juggle surgeries to pick up the kids or call Callie to plan Thanksgiving.” She ran her hands over her hair, smoothing wisps away and feeling the rough tug of a tangle. “I’m losing myself Mer. Every day he’s taking a piece of me and I just can’t get it back.”

Her shoulders hitched. Something awful churned inside of her. The words were out—applied to something she’d purposely kept unquantifiable for so long. But now there it was. Defined. Crystilized into something tangible.

Meredith couldn’t seem to find words to respond with. She wasn’t shocked or horrified by the truth wrenched straight from the pit of Cristina. She was, if anything, just herself again. The woman Cristina had grown to understand with a look. And Meredith understood her too—which maybe was **why** she wasn’t horrified or angry anymore.

So she just stared at Cristina. Not touching or speaking, just being. And Cristina allowed herself to just be too.

 

####

Out of habit Owen sometimes still just called her his “wife.” He didn’t consider Callie his wife and he hadn’t for some time. But there were occasions in his head where the “ex” was forgotten.

It would likely always be that way. There’d be just this perfect alchemy of emotions and memories that would evaporate the “ex” and make her just his wife. It wasn’t pronounced with the kids—there she was their mother, and it wasn’t pronounced when dealing with Arizona or Cristina. A third party made the “ex” all the more stark.

But he stepped into the room where Callie had been brainstorming for the last two days and saw the dark circles under her red rimmed eyes and the way she stared blearily at the screens in front of her and she was his wife. A word that could not begin to adequately describe what their relationship had been, had become, and would forever be.

“Callie,” he called trepidatiously.

Her whole body seemed to creak as her eyes rose to meet his. There was something devastating there. An agony so horrid. And the worst wasn’t the pain but knowing that he’d never seen it before because Callie had never **felt** that way before. Not for him. She was a woman failing someone she loved more purely than she’d ever loved him.

“I can’t do it.”

He came and knelt next to her chair, her bad leg was propped up on a stool beneath the table and the foot below the massive brace was twitching with nervous energy. She ran her hands angrily through her hair, tugging at it and ruining that perfect coif that had come to define her since their marriage.

“I’ve spent two days just staring and—“ She groaned in frustration and fury.

Out of habit Owen’s hand covered hers. “Hey. You’ve got time. We can take time and—“

She snatched her hand away, taking umbrage with his attempt at comfort. “There isn’t time Owen. Arizona’s best friend is dying on a beach in Belize. This is it. **I’m** it.”

“Have you talked to Teddy?” Callie glared at the screen. “Cristina?”

“I have to do this.”

“You’ve got the best cardio department on the West Coast roaming this hospital. Have you reached out to any of them?”

She jerked away from him, gesturing at the screen, “You know what they’re going to say? The same thing I’ve been trying not to for the last two days. There’s **no** chance Owen. He's dying and there is nothing I can do."

"You have to—“

"I have been! I've been trying. I've been staring at that heart for days and trying to see a way—a path to fixing it."

"Callie," he waited patiently until she looked at him again, "you don't give up. Ever. You’re the most tenacious woman I know and one of the most brilliant surgeons I've ever seen. You can find a way."

She sniffed, and glanced up at him from beneath her eyelashes, “This a pep talk coach?"

"Getting ready for the day Allegra starts playing sports,” he said with a gentle smile.

She laughed. 

Then her face cracked and Owen realized he'd approached her all wrong.

This wasn't about cheering her up or giving her inspiration. This was about allowing her to accept the pain. Accept what she could not fight. 

She looked down at her hands, “The thing is…a pep talk isn’t enough Owen. Teddy and Cristina won’t be either. His heart’s a tumor, and it’s not the only one.”

“Callie.”

“It’s fatal.” Not sad or nervous or worried anymore. Callie voice was steel when she said those words. The badass cardiothoracic go. She sniffed again. “There’s nothing to be done, and I told Arizona there was.”

“She’ll understand—“

“Would you? If it was your mom and I couldn’t save her would you understand?”

“Yes,” she shook her head and he raised his voice a little, tried to maintain their eye contact, “Yes I would. Because I’m a surgeon too and I know how good you are, and Arizona **knows** how good you are Callie. She knows you’re the best.”

“I’m just a fellow—“

“You didn’t even have a fellowship and Ellis was giving you feel run of this place.”

“Because she didn’t care about cardiothoracic! She just needed a face to put on the wall of department heads and mine looked good. I was at the right place at the right time. That’s why I was in charge. Not because I’m some—-I’m not extraordinary.” Her voice was soft. “Not like your or Arizona. Cristina. She’s extraordinary. She’s the future. I’m just paving the road there.”

Owen reared back and forced himself to reappraise his ex-wife. She could be prickly and maybe even a little too emotional, but Callie was **smart** and when it came to surgery she wasn’t just good. Callie was…Callie was one of the greats. He knew it. **Everyone** knew it. All those years ago when she’d just recklessly walked into that room as a resident and demanded her help her save a man’s spine despite **Derek Shepherd** saying no he’d known she was great.

“Why do you think Arizona asked you?”

She wiped at her eyes and shrugged. “Because I’m her girlfriend.”

“Because Ellis flew in Teddy Altman and Erica Hahn to be your boss and you’re **still** the surgeon with the most consults. Because you published more before you were a fellow than most attendings will ever publish. Because you’re an artist. And because there is no one in this world she should trust that heart to before you.” He reached out for her hand and squeezed it tight. “No one,” he repeated. “She won’t be mad at you.”

“I’m failing her. And she’ll leave again Owen. If I can’t save her friend she’ll leave me.”

“She—“

“Losing him will be the final straw. It’ll break her, and I guarantee you she won’t let me or anybody else pick up the pieces.”

Another monologue full of assurances and glowing praise formed on Owen’s tongue. But he paused. Because as much as he wanted Callie to be wrong he knew, in some way, she was right. With the plane crash and Arizona’s own skittish nature in relationships her friend’s death **would** be enough. Callie would lose her.

He took a deep breath and looked up at the scans. “Show me what you’ve got,” he said. “Let’s get as many eyes on this as possible.”

Maybe they were doing like Callie had first said—delaying the inevitable. But he’d do it as long as he needed if it would give Callie that chance. You did whatever you could…for the people you love.

 

####

They didn’t talk about the plane crash. Just like they never talked about the helicopter crash that took Tim’s life. They didn’t **need** to talk about it. She mentioned it once and he nodded and there was understanding.

“Thanks for coming,” was all he really said afterwards. A quiet acknowledgement of what it must cost her to get on the plane.

“Where else would I be?”

“With her.”

He was laid out on the bed, resting his head in his folded arms and watching the ocean. Arizona was seated on the ground in front of the bed and had to turn around to look at him. “What?”

“You like her,” he said with a grin. 

“Well, I—Of course I like her! That’s why you date.”

“But you’ve been together a while right?”

“Off and on a few months.”

He blinked in surprise and then had to roll over to look at the ceiling. “Wow.”

“It’s not **that** shocking that I’ve dated someone a few months.”

“It’s pretty shocking.”

She had no words.

“You usually never last more than like, a week.”

“I…” Arizona was stuck. Callie technically **was** her longest relationship. Even if they hadn’t had a whole lot of sex— “Did you know we didn’t sleep together for like a month when we first started dating.”

“It’s the end times.”

She grabbed the pillow she’d been sitting on and twisted around to hit him in the face with it. “I like her, okay?”

“Clearly.”

He rolled back over and balanced his chin on his fists. Wagging his eyebrows he said, “Sooo. Tell me all about her.”

Nick could be such an asshole.

She smiled. “She’s—“ She’d been safety in a storm.

“That special?”

“Yeah,” she said smiling.

“And she’s a heart doctor.”

“An amazing one. The best.” She was surprised Nick was even trying to press her. They never talked about who they dated. Arizona normally went through women so fast and Nick through women so sparingly that it wasn’t a thing.

That both were insanely private when it came to romance compounded the—not problem—issue?

“You’ve been dating a month, she’s a heart doctor, and you’re in love. What got you to commit? She save your ass on that mountain?”

She didn’t say anything.

“Oh.” He looked embarrassed. “Arizona—“

“It was something before that. Then it wasn’t. Then it was. I guess.” She looked back out towards the beach. “I care about her.”

“Right. But why’d it take a plane crash to make it something real? You don’t think that’s a little convenient?”

“It could be fate!”

She winced as soon as she said it.

“You know, I’ve known you to be a lot of horrible things Arizona, but that was a whole new **level** of stupid.” He said her **actual** name.

She turned back around to find Nick staring pointedly.

Finally she sighed. “She has kids. And an ex-husband who’s not going anywhere.”

“So baggage.”

“Yeah.”

“And you’re the woman who travels to foreign countries with nothing but a backpack.”

She shrugged.

“And you hate kids so much you got a job carving them up.”

“That’s not true.”

“It’s a little—“

“Okay a little—but I like her kids. **And** they like me. A lot.”

“Yeah because you swoop in, probably give them presents, and then swoop out. Wait until they’re fourteen and hate you then get back to me on how great they are.”

“You’re trying to talk me out of loving Callie and it isn’t going to work.”

“No. I’m trying to point out that you’ve made a very cozy life free of Thanksgiving obligations and they don’t fit that life.”

“Can’t I change?”

“Sure. Anyone can change. But you have you’re life and no one, not me or your parents or even Tim could get you to change it.”

“You’re making it sound like I’m some kind of selfish asshole.”

“If she asked you to move in tomorrow and raise those kids would you?”

The thought filled her with blind panic.

“I’m happy for you Yuma, but I don’t want you setting yourself, or this poor chick, up for a fall.”

“Did you know I’m a godmother?” He tilted his head. “Mark. This guy lives across the hall from me and has known me only a few months and he made me a godmother. If he and his fiancé die—which is very possible at that hospital—I’m a mom. And I’m okay with that Nick.”

“You were a godmother once before.” And Nick had been a godfather. Back when his sister had married her brother and they’d had a kid. Back before Tim died and Arizona self destructed and Nick travelled the world taking pictures of kids he didn’t know but could rescue with a smile and a camera.

She hadn’t seen her godson in years. Nick’s sister wouldn’t even take her calls.

“It’s different now,” she argued.

“Because of the plane crash?”

“Because of Callie. Because I—I love Callie.” She grinned—justing thinking about Callie and home had her smiling. “And I love her kids. And because I’m committed.”

“Right but—“

“But nothing Nick! I’ve changed. I’m **good** now. And Callie helped. If you guys could just except that—”

“Guys—“ His eyebrows rose with surprise. “You mean your parents. You told them?”

“Of course not. Look how you’re acting. They’ll be five times worse.”

“You don’t know that.”

She did. And he did too. 

He shrugged, “Okay, but right now you’re surprising me talking about loving a chick. Maybe they could surprise you.”

“They could. But they won’t.”

Parents rarely ever did.

 

####

“You really don’t have an opinion?” Callie had trouble believing that. Her father **always** had an opinion.

But he shrugged and crossed his arms, “I don’t know what to tell you mija. This isn’t my decision.”

“My leg, you had an opinion. Where I live you, have an opinion. You’d have one for which side of the bed I sleep on if I asked, but whether I should take this company’s settlement offer you’ve got nothing.”

“I wasn’t there. You were.”

Callie groaned and stood up abruptly. Her crutches were leaning against the fridge so she had to hop shuffle to the sink with her drained coffee cup. “I honestly don’t get you,” she ranted.

He interrupted, “What do the others think?”

“Derek’s now for suing because he’s got a white knight complex. Meredith doesn’t care. Sloan and Addison are wanting to settle—“

“And Arizona?”

And Arizona she hadn’t spoken with in three days. She was trying to hold off calling her in the vain hope that something would change. That she’d ask about Nick and Callie would be able to give her good news.

But if anything Teddy and Cristina’s consults had just made it clear how lost the cause was. Owen was the only one optimistic, but he’d stayed in a marriage about 3 years too long once. He was optimistic to the point of stupidity.

“I don’t know—“

“Mija,” he scolded.

“I have to…I have to tell her something and I can’t. So we haven’t talked.”

The legs of his chair scraped across the floor as he stood up. He padded close enough to hug her if he’d wanted to, but he just put his hands on her shoulder and slowly turned her around.

“I’ve never known you to run,” he said seriously.

She hadn’t either. Not until Arizona. 

“I can’t tell her Daddy.”

“You have to.”

“And if she hates me?”

“Then she’s a fool and she doesn’t deserve you,” he said very seriously. Something in her broke and tears blurred her vision enough that she couldn’t see her father’s frown. He pulled her into a hug, the first **real** hug he’d given her since learning she was bisexual. “A damn fool.”

 

####

Closing on the house went faster that Owen would have thought. It seemed like something that big, and that important, should have taken a while. There should have been lots of meetings and people quibbling over stupid things.

But it happened in three days. He made an offer. They accepted. He signed. The end.

The beginning of the week he was living with his mom and by the end of the week he had a home so close to his kids they could walk there.

“You really bought it,” Callie asked.

“I did.”

She’d smiled. That genuine smile of her’s that would probably always make Owen a little happy. “I’m glad.”

And Owen was glad too. The two of them were making lives, intertwined but apart. When all these other people had divorces that imploded a family there’s just made them stronger. Parents, friends, united against everything.

But the best part was—the best part was that when Owen had to call someone to show off the house he’d just received the keys for, he didn’t first think of Callie.

He thought of Cristina. He’d given her the address and told her he had a surprise.

It wouldn’t be **that** big a surprise. There weren’t a whole lot of reasons a guy would ask a woman to meet him at an empty house with a For Sale sign out front.

And the few reasons there were were almost universally good.

Owen kept telling himself that. He said it while he made dinner and lit candles and set them on the empty living room floor and he said it while he uncorked the wine and pulled the champagne out of the fridge.

He said it too when he heard her car stop, the breaks squeaking loudly.

But it was harder to believe it was so **good** when he opened the door and Cristina seemed so.

Sad.

“Owen,” she asked, “What did you do?”

“I bought a house,” he guided her in with a firm hand and watched her take it in. He outlined which room was which from the foyer. Told her about the commute and how it wouldn’t be so bad if it was the two of them. “It’s a good home,” he said finally.

She smiled, “It’s wonderful. I’m sure your kids will love it.”

“I want you to love it too.”

“Owen…” She said his name affectionately enough, but there was a warning there too. One that glittered in her eyes like tears and mingled with the sadness that had clung to her since seeing the house.

“I want you,” he stepped close and tried to smile—tried to be exuberant enough for the both of them, “I want you here. With me.”

She tilted her head and actually **did** smile before leaning up and gently pressing her lips to his. Her hand slipped through the hair at the base of his neck as if to keep him in place. They parted and she looked at him with such bright, intelligent eyes. “I took the fellowship in Minnesota. I leave in a month.”

“And me,” he asked.

Her voice cracked, “You just bought a house.”

 

####

It was funny how news could ruin a day.

Arizona had first hand experience with it, so it shouldn’t have surprised her. She should have known better. Her gut should have clenched when her phone rang. Her nerves should have frayed. She should have shared one last long look with a Nick that was neither dying or living.

But they’d been trying to make breakfast together and laughing at their awful attempt at eggs and the phone had rung and Arizona didn’t think. She just answered, laughter still on her lips.

And then she listened, and her face must have fallen because Nick stopped laughing too. He stopped cooking. He stood there silently staring through her while she silently stared through him and when she finally let the phone fall from her ear he sort of laughed.

A miserable and worthless laugh.

“Guess I should have called sooner huh?”

And Arizona would have cried or gotten angry again but she couldn’t seem to do either. She could just stand there staring at a dead man and thinking of the one who’d died before and wondering why whenever she cared they left.

Nick had tried to laugh again and looked a lot less scared than he was. “Any idea when I expire?”

The smile at the end of the question was enough for Arizona. It was enough to pull her out of the shock. She flung her phone at his nose and promptly collapsed to the ground crying.

It was awful to feel so empty and helpless.

And worse to feel so alone.

Callie had failed her.

And Nick had too.

 

####

**One month later**

Instead of buying the biggest iced coffee she could find, as was her usual habit, Callie took two elevators and walked across the hospital’s iconic catwalk (group photos were commonly taken there), to make her way the cardio floor. There she found a particular redheaded co-worker leaning against an empty bed and trying not to look exhausted.

It was Addison’s last day in the hospital as a patient, and while she’d improved a great deal, she still looked awful. There were dark shadows under her eyes and in the hollows of her cheeks, and her hair…. Callie winced.

Like a psychic Addison said, “First thing tomorrow is a hair appointment.”

“I don’t want to say good, but—“

“I have split ends Callie.” She jabbed at a pale streak near the part in her hair, “And I’m pretty sure that’s gray.”

Callie squinted. “Is it? It looks…blond. Just blond.”

“You’re worse than Mark.”

Callie glanced around the room for Addison’s other half, or the kid they shared. “Where—where is Mark anyways?”

“Getting the car, and no, he hasn’t spoken to Arizona. I know,” she folded a sweat shirt and shoved it forcefully into her suitcase, “because he won’t shut up about her disappearing act.”

“I think she broke up with me.”

“What gave it away? Her refusal to take your calls? Or her vanishing from the planet Earth?”

“I tried her parents—“

Addison winced. 

“But they didn’t know who I was or where **she** was.”

“Well, that’s—The Captain didn’t know I was divorced, engaged or near death until a week ago.”

“Whiplash for him.”

“He’s thinking of suing I’m sure.” She fiddled with a zipper on her bag. “She could come back you know.”

That’s what Owen had said too. And her father. And Amelia. And Mark the last time she’d asked him. “She **could** come back,” they’d all said. But really she wouldn’t. Callie had tried to save her best friend’s life and failed, and Arizona wasn’t about to forgive that.

And who could blame her?

“Have you called the place she was staying at?”

“I did. Apparently she and Nick aren’t taking calls and the place never knows if they’re even there are not.”

“It’s just…don’t you think it’s weird she’d just drop off the grid like this? It’s not **your** fault the guy waited until it was too late.”

Callie hoped that if she kept telling herself that too she’d eventually believe it.

 

####

The hospitals Arizona had worked at had all had nurses who administered hospice care. She’d never done it herself. She’d given the worst kind of news and she’d done what she could to make the dying comfortable, but she hadn’t **been** there. She’d had dozens of other patients every time she’d had a lost cause. So she’d never had to focus on just that one person.

Never had to live with the grief of impending doom.

She was used to hope. Even a tiny sliver of it. Just as she was used to the finality of death.

But this was just a march. Slow and unalterable. A long haul for which she was not prepared.

She wanted to leave—to just wait for a call in the middle of the night while wrapped up in her girlfriend’s arms half a continent away.

The reason she stayed was a ridiculous one. She’d tried to leave the day after Callie had called and Nick had set upon her. “Sure, just keep running,” he’d shouted, his own shock and anger turning his face red, “its what you do best right?”

He’d offered a challenge and Arizona’s own competitive nature had obliged her to respond. To stick around. To mop up vomit from bad meds and hold him through shivers from poor circulation and patiently wait for the day the tumor would rip open what was left of his heart and he’d bleed to death from the inside.

But Nick didn’t want to wait. He didn’t want to just sit on the beach and time the waves with his failing heartbeat. So they travelled. They hiked through forest and swam in gulfs and rivers and sampled foods Arizona couldn’t even pronounce.

And they didn’t answer their phones.

That was Nick. “It’s just you and me Flagstaff. Gimme that?”

She gave him more than that. She fought her own upbringing, her own sense of self, to be **present**.

And through it all one horrifying fact made itself clear. Arizona would survive.

She gave Nick all of herself and as he grew weaker and weaker she stayed strong. She listened to her heartbeat in the dead of night. Lifted grocery bags when he was too weak. She laughed for both of them. And she cried too.

She lived.

“Arizona,” he said, the use of her given name a hint of just how important his words were, “thanks.”

He had to fight to breathe to say those words. Had to pull an oxygen mask off and work to smile. He was so weak a slight upturn of the lips was all he could manage.

She lay next to him, giving her warmth to him. Holding him and saying nothing.

She felt him die that way.

He breathed quickly. He coughed. His whole chest rattled.

And then…just a sigh. 

She looked up and saw vacant eyes. She expected him to be cold too. But it took a while for all the heat to evaporate. So at first he did seem alive. He looked alive and he still smelled like Nick.

But something was absent.

He was like one of those hollow bodies on the operating table, paper over their faces and their cool insides laid out for everyone in the gallery to see.

 

####

Sometimes a cut had to be made. No one wanted to make that cut. To slice through that bone or remove that limb. But it had to be done. It couldn’t be avoided. A body—a life—was in your hands.

Cristina made the cut.

Owen had showed her a house and told her a story and she’d made the cut. She’d ended things before he could ask her to move in or offer her a ring or promise her a world they both knew, deep down, he couldn’t deliver.

She still felt…drawn to him. The month between her decision to end things and her departure for Minnesota was a restless one. She found herself knocking on his door late at night. Found herself touching his arm on the elevator. Found herself looking and wishing they’d found each other at some other point. One where he didn’t want kids, or maybe one where she did. One where surgery could be everything for both of them.

But they’d been given just the one chance at life and there he had three children he loved and needed to be with and there she had the irresistible draw towards medicine and there in between them lay the chasm.

Her final night in town she was still compelled, once more, to try and cross the chasm. She drove to that new house of his, with the lamp on the front porch and bright lights illuminating the inside. She knocked and Allegra was the one to answer. Owen followed shortly after and instead of inviting Cristina in he stepped out.

She could hear the kids on the other side. See the warm light spilling from the windows. She could even see how content Owen seemed.

“You’re going,” he asked.

“Start my drive tomorrow morning.”

He nodded.

Silence fell between them. The silence of the chasm. It was empty and cold. Unfamiliar.

Owen grimaced.

Cristina stared.

“Travel safe,” he said with a firm smile.

“Thanks,” she said, her voice suddenly deep.

He turned and she called after him, “Owen, I…”

Nothing. Nothing came out because there was nothing to be said. Decisions had been made and paths had been forged and this was the part where they separated. Where he lived one life and her another and there wasn’t an “I love you” in the world that could bridge the chasm.

A flicker of their old gift for talking without saying anything occurred. He understood what she couldn’t say and responded the same.

Then he closed the door, blocking out the warm light of the house. She turned and walked away, her head held high.

She wouldn’t cry.

She made a choice and she wouldn’t regret it.

Her shadow grew dark and long as the door opened again.

Heavy feet on the pavement.

A sigh culminating in her name.

She spun around and kissed him for the last time. Dug her blunt nails into his scalp and opened her mouth to his unbridled ministrations and relished the way his hands wrapped around her waist, holding her fast but letting her go.

It was their last kiss and more than the pleasant biology of a kiss. There was emotion there. Pouring out of him and into her and out of her and into him and she held tight and for just the briefest of moments never wanted to let go.

So he did. A subtle push with his thumbs and they parted. His mouth was red and his hair was wild and his eyes were calm.

“I love you too,” he said.

 

####

Nick had asked that she avoid a memorial at all costs. “The only people that show up will be the guys,” he’d said, “and they get enough death as is.” 

No memorial. But he asked to be buried at Arlington.

So while a little man burned her best friend’s body to greasy ash and put it in a jar she filled out paperwork and bought a ticket to DC.

She’d insisted on making the internment as low key as possible. When it was over she wandered the cemetery until muscle memory took hold and she found herself walking to a familiar grave. She could still pick it out from amongst the identical slabs of white. She didn’t need to look at row numbers or count.

Tim’s grave. Where they’d buried him with full honors. Where her mother had wept and his wife accepted a flag while Arizona held her nephew’s sweaty little palm in her own.

The space around Tim’s grave had changed. Gravestones had filled the places where they’d stood.

It was funny, her life had fallen apart on the very site, but there was no memorial for Arizona Robbin. No remembrance for the woman who lost her brother and spun her life out of control as a result.

Nick had tried to pick up the pieces of her. Her sister-in-law had tried too. Arizona’s own parents had watched her fall apart while sitting in the ruins of their own lives.

And nothing marked the moment.

But nothing marked the moment the ruins started to rebuild. Nothing marked kisses in dirty bathrooms, or declarations of love in the wreckage of planes. There was no stone at the site she’d stood when she’d fallen in love with Calliope Torres.

And there’d never be a moment of remembrance for that instant she realized she loved Callie enough to **try**.

“Guess we don’t really need it for the big stuff huh,” she asked a silent grave. She knelt and brushed her hand across the cool stone, her finger dipping into the etched name. “You’d like her Tim. She’d make you laugh, and she’d wow you with her brain and she’s hotter than just about every woman you ever dated. And…she put me together again. And—” she hadn’t cried in days, so the pain as the tears built was alarming. Almost new. “—You would have had a helluva time dancing at our wedding.”

When the tears broke they weren’t for the brothers she’d lost.

They were for the happiness she’d found and they’d never get to see.

 

####

The drive from Seattle to Minnesota took over twenty hours. It was a two day drive for Cristina. While she could easily run on 20 hours with no sleep she knew for a fact she’d pass out from sheer boredom on the drive.

But she still had to leave early that morning. When the sky was still pink with a rising sun and a layer of dew gave the grass the appearance of frosted glass.

What she didn’t expect to find, as she dragged her suitcase down the stairs, was her two roommates and one girlfriend of a roommate waiting for her on the porch. Lexie was swimming in one of her sister’s old Dartmouth sweatshirts and an awake, if bleary eyed, Amelia stood next to her in pajamas and a leather jacket.

Meredith was the only one dressed. A loose flannel shirt and skinny jeans. A far cry from the woman she’d first met as an intern in her slacks and sweater set.

“We just wanted to see you off,” Lexie said.

“I didn’t even think you liked me Pacemaker.”

Lexie took a deep breath at the sound of the nickname, but dropped her hands to her side and came closer. She shrugged, before punching Cristina in the bicep as hard as her tiny little fist could. Before Cristina could yelp in pain Lexie was wrapping her arms around her in a bear hug. “Call us when you get there,” she whispered in her ear.

There was genuine concern in the younger woman’s voice. Enough that Cristina, who never hugged or cried or showed emotion if she could help it, involuntarily reached around Lexie and squeezed back. “Take care of your sister,” she replied.

Lexie squeezed tight again and let go. She stepped back and Amelia immediately laced her fingers with her own before looking up from their joined hands to shrug at Cristina. 

“I didn’t really want to get up, because I don’t actually know your or anything. But Lexie kind of demanded it.”

Cristina had figured as much.

“But, I don’t know. I’ve seen you work Yang, and honestly I can’t wait to see what you’ll do. You’re gonna be extraordinary.”

Lexie pulled Amelia closer at that, the whole length of their arms touching.

“She will,” Meredith said softly.

Her sister and Amelia both ducked their heads and went inside, giving the best friends for half a year the space they seemed to need.

Meredith dug her hands into her pockets and dragged her feet across the lumpy boards of the porch deck. “I wish I could say you were running.”

“I have to go.”

“I know. You’ve got to go be great,” she said with a crooked smile.

“Meredith…tell me I’m right. Putting surgery before him.”

“Most people would say you’re wrong, but you’re right Cristina. For **you** Minnesota’s right. I just don’t want you forgetting us when you’re swimming in Harper Averys and Carter Madisons.”

She tried not to let the crack in her voice sound too loud. “Never.”

That crooked smile almost twisted into a full one. “I’m gonna have to do that hug thing now you know.”

“Lexie already did it.”

“I know,” Meredith said, “but she’s got spindly junkie arms. It’s not as good.”

“Mer—“

She’d never quite been hugged like Meredith hugged her. Never felt quite so whole out of an OR as she did in that second. And all it was was the two of them wrapping their arms around one another and squeezing.

But it felt right.

She didn’t know if she’d ever feel that right again. Outside.

But in Minnesota there’d be an OR where she’d heal a wounded heart. And that would feel right too.

And that. That was enough.

“Be great,” Meredith said when they parted.

“Only if you are too.”

“I’m a Webber and a Grey, Yang. I’m the best there’ll ever be.”

 

####

Her dad tried to hide the pitying looks, but Carlos Torres had never been one to hide his emotions, especially when they concerned his daughter.

It had been five weeks since she’d last spoken to Arizona. Five weeks of silence. Five weeks of Mark and Amelia’s confusion. Five weeks feeling like she’d been left at an altar.

And Carlos Torres felt it was time to move on.

“You’re better than her,” he said sincerely.

Which ignored that fact that Callie had **chosen** Arizona and kind of implied (he insisted it didn’t) that her decision making faculties were impaired.

Besides suddenly being a shit talking best friend her father was actually on good behavior. He didn’t insist she move back to Miami.

Stuff with the hotel he was building was picking up speed and he was out of the house often, which was why Owen came over for dinner that night.

Cristina’s departure had left him sullen and Teddy— **TEDDY** —had called Callie and asked for help cheering him up. “I can’t do much,” Teddy had said. “I couldn’t keep her here and I think he hates me for it.”

Callie suspected he hated himself more—but that was because her ex-husband had a near endless capacity for self-recrimination.

The night was cool, but pleasant, and they opted to grill outside while watching the kids run around and around and around the back yard. Allegra had her bike out, and her helmet on, and was taking it in jerky circles while her brothers chased after her with sticks.

“We should probably stop that at some point,” Callie mused.

Owen shrugged, “It’s fine as long as they don’t catch her.”

Neither talked about the girlfriends they **didn’t** have.

It was funny. Callie and Owen had worked so hard to be separate, to find **real** love and move on from their doomed marriage. But there the two of them sat in apparent domestic bliss.

Callie almost felt bad for moving him out of the house.

“How’s the new place so far?”

“Kitchen remodel’s done and we’re starting on that upstairs bath tomorrow. Tell your dad thanks for the recommendation on the tile guy by the way. He gave me a fantastic deal.”

“Because you mentioned Daddy. I’m pretty sure that tile guy is getting a new yacht out of him from all the orders he’s made. I saw some of the bills yesterday?” She shuddered. “Boutique hotels are not cheap.”

“Neither are home remodels.”

She smiled up at him. And he smiled down.

Someone looking in on the scene would have seen only the content smiles. They would have missed that dull gleam in their eyes. Would have missed the incompleteness of both of them.

“We should start doing dinners with Mark and Addison,” she said abruptly.

Owen raised an eyebrow, “I thought you hated Mark.”

“He’s been okay,” she looked out to watch the kids. “Last couple of weeks we kind of bonded, you know, waiting for the person who rip our hearts out.”

Owen’s eyes softened. He set the tongs he’d been using to tend meat down and came to sit on the bench beside her, shifting her and pulling her back to his chest.

It was an old and familiar position for them. But it felt…it felt like more than it had before. He pressed his lips to her hair in a platonic—almost brotherly—fashion. “She’d be here if she could.”

“She ran.”

“Maybe, but not from you Callie.” His hands rubbed up and down her arm to ward off any chill. “She’s not gonna run from you. She couldn’t.”

“Yeah?”

“It’s hard to get you out of the system Torres. And that’s from personal experience.”

It was hard to get Arizona out of the system too. “I wish there was a way you could just **exorcise** a person from you. I’m not saying we need to swing incense or anything, but just cleanse.”

“Like…a juice cleanse?”

“Ew, no, have you met me Owen? No, I mean like how they always serve sorbet between meals at my dad’s restaurant.”

Owen sounded out the idea, “Human sorbet.”

She twisted to look up at him, the setting sun had caught in the pale stubble on his chin making it a fiery red. “A palate cleanser.”

They shared what Callie could only describe as a **look**. A big, bold lettered look where their recent divorce and the reasons behind it disappeared and a lot of emotion that was never gonna go away, no matter how hard they tried, lingered.

Then the doorbell rang and whatever spell cast by their proximity and the magic light of the setting sun, paused.

“I should get that,” Callie said in a low voice.

Owen swallowed, “Yeah, and I should check…on the…on the burgers.”

Neither made any attempt to move.

 

####

Arizona hit the buzzer again.

And waited.

And worried.

She could smell meat cooking on a grill and hear kids laughing and see Callie and Owen’s cars in the driveway.

She’d come too late.

Waited too long.

She brought her finger up to ring a third time—even though she could hear her dad in her head telling her that was rude. Her  finger grazed the button and the door suddenly swung open to reveal a wary, surprised and exhausted Calliope Torres.

“I didn’t call,” Arizona started, “I wanted to but I didn’t and I’m sorry, but I wasn’t talking because of Nick not because of you. I mean—because Nick asked me to be present and I wanted to be present. **You** taught me how to be present so I wanted to be there for him when he died and not be a couple thousand miles away and I was. When I talk to you or think about you I’m here and not there so I didn’t call.”

Callie searched Arizona’s features with an unrivaled kind of hunger. So Arizona took another step forward.

“He died Callie and I think that it was supposed to break me. I think him and the plane crash and my parents and everything else was supposed to break me, but they didn’t, because I knew, at the end of the day, you were here. You and the kids and my life were here and waiting.”

Another step and Callie had to look down and Arizona had to look up. The difference in height was small, but just enough. “You understand me,” Arizona whispered. “You look at me and I’m…”

Whole. Home. Loved.

Arizona didn’t know how to say the words and she kept looking at Callie’s lips. Soft and full. Relaxed. Parted slightly. She’d missed Callie. Missed her in this wholly un-Arizona kind of way where she’d wanted to see her face and feel her arms and just…talk.

She’d never missed a lover like that.

Callie was looking at Arizona’s lips too, and then back at her eyes and her whole face. And Callie—she had such an expressive face, so she didn’t need to say a word. Arizona could just **see** the hurt she’d caused by not calling. Could see the anger. And there was sadness too.

She should have called. Should have thought. That was Arizona’s whole problem wasn’t it? Nick had even said it. She was selfish. She thought about herself first and other people second and now she’d gone and hurt the woman she loved.

She tried to say a word. Her mouth worked to say something that would ease the pain on Callie’s face. 

“I’m…”

And then Callie’s hand was snaking through Arizona’s hair and pulling her up and into an open mouth kiss where her teeth grazed Callie’s tongue and her breath caught in Callie’s mouth and Callie’s entire body was pressed up against her own. 

They finally separated with a sigh and Callie leaned forward to press her forehead to Arizona’s. The only sound was their breathing.

Callie whispered, “Welcome home.”

Arizona was right where she was meant to be.


End file.
